


Eyes Like Frozen Water

by vivi1138



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, Bittersweet, Contains a few unimportant OCs, Fluff, M/M, Memory Loss, Mention Of Homophobia, POV Alternating, Rating changed sorry, Rollercoaster so bring tissues, Starting from Ch.12 Yurio really needs more pirozhki, Victor's pink nose, Yurio is Russia's new heartthrob but all he wants is pirozhki, Yuuri never made it to the Grand Prix, or maybe not sorry, they don't know each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-06 17:03:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 35,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8761624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivi1138/pseuds/vivi1138
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki does his best to escape the emptiness filling his mind ever since he woke up in a hospital bed four years ago. His comfort is ice skating. He might have lost his memories, but his body remembers everything. It's the only hint he has about his past self. When he gets a crush on a retired skating legend, his life slowly becomes meaningful again. What if said legend heard about him too?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> English isn't my first language *apologetic puppy eyes*

To Yuuri Katsuki, there was nothing more annoying than a TV blaring when he just came home from work. He had spent several hours surrounded with kids screaming their heads off on the ice rink, and he only wanted to relax in silence. Even locking himself up in his room didn’t help: his roommate, Hiro, was watching a variety show with his girlfriend who would surely have thrown a fit if he wanted to watch something else. This day had not started well and had gotten progressively worse. Sighing, he grabbed a painkiller to try and soothe his headache, and fell face first onto his pillow. Sometimes, teaching ice skating felt exhausting.

Yuuri had spent his whole childhood and teenage years with blades under his feet, even winning national competitions. After an accident when he was twenty, he was forced to quit. Now twenty-four years old, he was back on the rink, spending most of his time crouched to wipe snot off a kid’s nose and encouraging the odd one who couldn’t stand for more than a minute before slipping and falling on his butt. It wasn’t easy, and he sometimes wondered how different his life would be if he had never stopped competing… or if he actually remembered any of it.

This was the whole problem. Yuuri knew about his past because his parents told him about it, and because he had seen pictures of himself. His body remembered routines and jumps, yet his mind stayed hopelessly blank. Sometimes, he would catch a glimpse of a distant echo, usually from when he was a child, or he would dream about something that turned out to have happened a long time ago, but his doctor was skeptical about him ever fully regaining his memories. Having lost his past, his identity, meant that he felt like a stranger in his own room and had, ultimately, led to depression. Yuuri followed two years of intense therapy before realizing that, as much as it hurt his family, he felt much better when he stayed away.

The young man came from Hasetsu, a small town in Saga Prefecture, Kyushu. He had moved to the capital to continue his healing process and found a job at Kawagoe Skate Center as an instructor for young kids, and even if some days were tiring or downright awful, he wouldn’t change it for the world. After closing time, he often practiced for a few hours because standing on the ice brought him a comfort he found nowhere else.

He lived with a roommate, since his therapist had advised him to avoid dwelling somewhere all by himself. Yuuri was a loner after all and it would have been quite easy for him to never meet anyone ever again apart from his students. He needed to make new memories.

Living with Hiro wasn’t exactly easy. The University student was sloppy in ways that would infuriate anyone, but at least he paid his part of the rent and utilities on time. Yuuri remembered the liquified cucumber he had found in the fridge this morning and grimaced. Would it still be there now? After repeated offenses, he had ordered a mini-fridge, but it took its sweet time to be delivered. In the meantime, he’d have to put up with rotten food. If he ever found a cockroach due to this, he’d throw it in Hiro’s bed. Preferably when Eiko was sleeping over.

Hiro’s girlfriend was the reason Yuuri’s life was invaded with pop songs and TV shows. He had hoped that Hiro would improve by dating the elegant and cute waitress - he had been completely mistaken. The man kept his room clean, it was only the kitchen he left a mess in. Eiko didn’t seem to mind - that was because she had never found liquefied vegetables in there, for sure. After all, she didn’t cook.

An annoying but catchy song attacked Yuuri’s ears next. He heard it so many times already, he couldn’t help but whimper against his pillow. There was no way he’d be in a good mood the next day, but if he asked them to turn the volume down, they would both talk behind his back.

Another song, this one completely different yet still much too loud, and he sat up. He needed a drink, badly. Entering the living room, he glanced at the TV and blinked. This wasn’t the same show anymore. A sports event ?

“Ooh, skating!” Eiko grinned.

Yuuri had heard Eiko squee in delight more than enough every time a pretty boy appeared on the screen and he wasn’t surprised ice skaters would have the same effect on her. He did admire Hiro’s patience after hearing her praise other men repeatedly. Still, he appreciated the fact that she didn’t change the channel. It had been a while since he had watched a competition, and since he noticed his headache was slowly disappearing, he decided to stay in the living room. He opened the fridge to grab a drink and winced.

The cucumber was still there. He groaned.

“Hey, Katsuki”, Hiro called, leaving his girlfriend’s side to slowly walk up to him.

Yuuri shot him a death glare and pointed at the fridge.

“Can you clean this up?”

“Yeah, yeah. You need a girl, right?”

“What’s with that?” he frowned.

Dating had never been on his mind - at least not since he woke up at the hospital. What he did know however, was that he was attracted by men, a secret he intended to take to the grave. He wasn’t even sure he accepted it himself, so why even hope that anyone else would?

The sloppy student leaned on the counter.

“I can set you up,” he said.

 _I’d love to go back to the rink right now,_ he thought.

Yuuri didn’t think he looked anything but ordinary, with his blue-framed glasses and his flabby stomach. He gained weight easily - though he did lose it rather quickly when he decided to - and as it constantly fluctuated he had a slightly squishy belly, even when his figure was at its thinnest. He hated it. Basically, Yuuri had zero confidence in himself. He had thought Eiko was crazy when, upon meeting for the first time, she told Hiro that she thought Yuuri was cute. To top it all of, Yuuri knew Hiro only wanted him to get a girlfriend so he wouldn't be home all the time.

“I’m a bit tired,” Yuuri finally said. “Can I watch the competition with you guys?”

Hiro sighed, shrugged and went back to the sofa. Yuuri followed a few seconds later. He focused on the Thai skater’s short program, impressed by his talent - he wondered if he had met him before his accident, but quickly cleared his mind. Thoughts like this one were dangerous for his mood.

“Ah, Victor’s not competing this year,” Eiko realized. “Did he retire or something?”

Yuuri had heard this name before, some of his students looked up to the man, so he must have been good. He saw Hiro checking his phone and nodding.

“Looks like it,” the student said, pointing at his search results. “Last year apparently.”

Yuuri glanced at the small screen and admired the picture of the tall, silver-haired man’s graceful Ina Bauer.

 

**_Ice Skating Legend Victor Nikiforov retires; could Russia’s next heartthrob be Yuri Plisetsky?_ **

 

He didn’t read past the headline, but his curiosity had already won. He didn’t pay any attention to Eiko’s complaints or to the TV anymore, all he wanted was to see more of this man’s moves. He opened his browser on his own phone and launched a search. It took a second to show millions of results, and another second for Yuuri's heart to skip a beat.

He stared at the first picture clearly showing the skater's face, and couldn't help but smile as he gazed into the beautiful man's eyes. Eyes like frozen water.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t everyday that the aptly named Russian Fairy shared his grandpa’s delicious pirozhki and Victor Nikiforov intended to eat as many as he could before his junior changed his mind. Sometimes, he stole a glance at the green-eyed teenager and was submerged by the urge to annoy him. After all, Yuri Plisetsky was hilariously adorable when he snapped. Which happened often.   


He was a sixteen-year-old prodigy known for his explosive temper and adored for his grace when he performed. Raised by his grandfather, he was a foul-mouthed but talented kid who had always looked up to Victor and had almost won against him just before the older man retired. They were considered nearly equals. He said he hated the nickname he had been given after winning so many competitions - a Russian Fairy reminded him of something tiny and glittery, not a legendary skater. Victor thought Yuri was indeed tiny and glittery but he knew he would never get any food from him again if he told him.  


Despite their age difference, both of them were quite close. Maybe it was their common loneliness, or the fact that Victor never underestimated him. They respected each other. Yuri rarely showed his softer side, but his smile when he had realized Victor had come to cheer him on in his latest competition had been priceless.

To the older man, the Russian Fairy was like a little brother, so he clinged to him, hoping he’d never lose his admiration and affection.

To say that Victor was in need of such things was an understatement. He craved it. Up until a year ago, in the world of figure skating, he was a star with the perfect personality to grab everyone’s attention. He always smiled, always posed for pictures and signed autographs until his coach’s face turned crimson with frustration and anger (they had even missed a flight once). He could charm anyone and he knew it. In private, he was silly, noisy, and it was easy to guess that as a child, he had been prone to impressive temper tantrums if he didn’t get what he wanted. 

But behind his beautiful blue eyes, Victor, like many other celebrities, hid a secret part of himself that was just as sweet as Yuri’s rare smile. Perhaps he didn’t need to be so outspoken and annoying, perhaps he could be loved even as the “other him”, the one who liked to laze around, go for a walk with his dog, and just read a book. It seemed unlikely, so he created a solid wall to conceal his private life. Only his previous coach and Yuri knew how he really spent his days off. 

Today was one such day. Even though Victor wasn’t competing anymore, it didn’t mean he stayed in bed all day. In fact, he was hoping to be a judge for next season’s biggest competitions and the learning process wasn’t as easy as he had initially thought. He also spent two days a week training for his coaching certificate. The rest of the time, he created choreographies he would never perform in front of anyone, gliding on the white surface of an empty ice rink. He might even have had more free time when he was still competing.

Yuri had shown up at his doorstep in the middle of the afternoon with a paper bag in his hands, wearing a brand new sweatshirt adorned with a white tiger. Grateful for the company and delighted when he had seen the food, the older man had welcomed him warmly.

For the past hour, they had been eating silently, watching a movie, Yuri doing his best not to look too relaxed and Victor wondering if he should just start poking his ribs repeatedly or let his dog, Makkachin, lick the kid’s face. 

“This is boring,” the teenager mumbled, then his eyes widened when he noticed the paper bag was empty. “HEY!”

Victor snorted and started coughing, a chunk of pirozhki still in his mouth.

“ _ Vkusno _ !” he managed to say, his shoulders shaking with laughter. 

“VICTOR YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE YOU ATE THEM ALL!”

“Now, now, Yuri, if you eat too many of them you won’t fit in your costume anymore. People will start calling you the Russian Goblin and Yakov will be pissed.”

Yakov had been Victor’s coach and was now training Yuri. He wasn’t known for his patience, but was probably the only one who could stand Victor and Yuri’s antics.

“I’ll remember this,” Yuri snarled.

His anger felt so satisfying... If he was truly furious, he would have left. Instead, he just grunted and started playing on his phone.

“Do you think we’ll see anyone new? I’m a bit tired of competing against the same people,” he mumbled after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

Victor hadn’t heard of any skater who stood out recently, except the usual he himself had won against. It amused him that Yuri was already “tired” when he had just made his senior debut. However, he had to admit he was curious. He used his tablet to search for “Most Promising Male Figure Skater” and had to wade through pages and pages talking about himself or Yuri until he decided to narrow his criteria. Yuri moved closer and groaned. Thailand had Phichit Chulanont, who was definitely a threat in Yuri’s everlasting fight for gold, but that wasn’t new. Nothing stood out, they already knew everyone. Except…

 

_**Katsuki injured!** _

_ Japan’s most promising male figure skater, Yuuri Katsuki, has been rushed to the hospital in the middle of the senior national championship. His coach and family have declined to comment. More in next week’s issue! _

 

“Mh? Who’s that?” Victor wondered aloud, having never heard the name before. 

“That article is four years old. Come on, keep looking.”

But when Victor was interested in something, diverting his attention from it was too hard even for the teenager.

 

_**Katsuki not returning?** _

_ Rumours about Yuuri Katsuki’s early retirement from figure skating have started to worry his fans. The twenty-year-old man has yet to appear in public after the accident witnessed by thousands of spectators. Subscribe for more, only 1300¥ a month! Or read for FREE on the Japanese homepage! _

 

For some strange reason, Victor’s throat tightened slightly. An injury could ruin anyone’s future in sports, but he had never felt distraught about any news announcing someone’s retirement, forced or not. Like his coach always said, he only cared about himself.

Every other article turned out to be in Japanese. He could still hear Yuri complaining but couldn’t register his words. He clicked on the suggested video at the top of the search results and played it in full screen. Even Yuri stopped talking to let him watch it in peace.

Yuuri Katsuki nailed his step sequence and his first jumps. The way he moved didn’t seem to impress the Russian Fairy, but Victor couldn’t keep his eyes off him. The Japanese man looked gorgeous. Victor recognized a similar pattern with his own body language, a yearning and an innocence that reminded him of how himself appeared to the world when he started his career. 

The skater then attempted a triple Axel. He slipped as he landed. Victor could have sworn he saw the glistening white ice turn red before someone blocked the cameraman’s view.

Now, the Russian man realized tears blurred his vision. Yuri fidgeted next to him. Perhaps he had noticed that Victor’s attitude meant he took what he just saw very seriously.

“Victor, you’re freaking me out,” he muttered.

He quickly regained control of himself but was still shaken. He put on his usual fake smile and pointed at Yuri’s phone.

“Call Yakov.”

“Heh? Why?”

“Ask him about that boy. I want to find him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments and kudos! They make me all warm and fuzzy :3


	3. Chapter 3

When Victor wanted something, he obtained it easily. Or at least, it had been that way for the majority of his existence. So, when his search for the mysterious Japanese skater turned out to be more complicated than expected, it frustrated him enough to make him lose inspiration for his secret, private routines. 

Yakov had been instantly aware that Yuri Plistesky had nothing to do with what he asked of him; but what he knew was limited. After all, Katsuki had never made it to any international competition. Still, he managed to put his hands on the contact information for Katsuki’s coach, who refused to tell him anything despite knowing exactly who he was. Yakov left it at that and told Victor to forget about it all. He had an angry Russian Fairy to deal with and was busy enough without looking for someone just because Victor asked him to. If he had had a reason for wanting to meet the boy, maybe the grim and moody coach would have been more inclined to help, but the handsome Russian champion struggled to explain to anyone, even to himself, why it was so important to him.

He thought about the Japanese man constantly, waking up every night after having seen him fall again and again in his nightmares. Sometimes, he saw himself follow the same path and painting the ice with blood. He had a visceral need to know if he was alright. 

The easiest way to discover the smallest clue would be to post on social media and wait for his thousands of followers to do the job themselves. Triage would be time-consuming, and Victor wasn’t sure he wanted to draw any attention to Yuuri for now, so he decided it would only be a last resort. 

Tired of running into a wall after contacting every skater he could reach, Victor paid someone to translate a few biographies he found on what he assumed were fansites. Google Translate transformed the texts so much it was no help at all. These websites all said the same thing: Yuuri had never made a public statement and had effectively vanished from the skating world. The most pessimistic considered him dead. What they all had in common however, was his hometown, and Victor had decided to go from there.

Because he was impulsive and determined, he flew to Japan without telling anyone except Yuri. Armed with a basic conversation guide, he managed to locate the Katsuki family, and fully expected to meet their son a few minutes later.

The plump and friendly woman who greeted him at the door seemed used to guests, and that was when Victor noticed he was actually standing at the entrance of an inn. Confused, he looked around.

“Were you looking for something in particular?” the woman asked, her English heavily accented - probably just as much as Victor’s. She was the first person he could talk to since he had left Fukuoka airport. He had been to Japan before but had never ventured far from his luxury hotel or the ice rink, and he was now rather surprised by the difficulty to find anyone who would speak English with him. Relief washed over him, and not only because he could finally communicate. The atmosphere around the woman seemed so warm and inviting, he felt like he never wanted to leave.

“Is this the Katsuki family’s home?”   

“Yes, this is Yu-topia. Oh, please excuse my rudeness, but if you are a reporter, we will only answer questions about the inn.”

He saw a flash of sadness in her eyes. 

“I’m not a journalist, I’m a figure skater and I’m looking for Yuuri Katsuki.” 

“They all are,” someone muttered behind him. He turned around and was met with a girl’s cold eyes. She was surrounded by the smell of cigarettes.

“I’m Mari,” she continued, “Yuuri’s sister. What do you want with him?”

Victor wasn’t easily embarrassed, yet he suddenly became conscious of his lack of manners. Who would barge into a stranger’s home to reopen old wounds? Perhaps it explained the Russian Fairy’s reaction when he told him where he was going. The teenager had appeared even more outraged than usual. He might be more sensible than Victor thought. And Mari’s question… well, that was the whole problem, wasn’t it? Victor didn’t have an answer for her. 

“I want to know if he’s alright,” he finally declared.

Mari’s gaze softened and she scrutinized his face. The air around them had gotten chillier but warmed up when the innkeeper - Yuuri’s mother, Victor learned then - smiled again.

“You’re Victor Nikiforov, aren’t you?” she asked gently. He nodded and saw Mari go back outside. “Yuuri looked up to you when he was younger. He would have been happy to know that you heard about him.”

The past tense worried him immensely and it must have shown on his face.

“Do you want to eat and try the hot springs? We’ll talk then.” 

 

********

 

Victor was treated to katsudon, Yuuri’s favourite food, after relaxing in the private part of the bathhouse. Having slept on the plane, he had enough energy left to learn more about Yuuri and to understand how silly this situation would look to anyone but him. He was having dinner with the family of someone he had never heard of until a few weeks ago, welcomed here as if he had always known them. Even Mari’s attitude changed now that she knew who he was. 

He learned that the walls of Yuuri’s room had been, a long time ago, covered with posters of him, which explained why his mother recognized him - he might be a star, but people who didn’t watch international figure skating competitions wouldn’t know about him. He was told how Yuuri had trained here, in his hometown, starting as a ballet dancer, and how many times he had won silver or gold in regional, then national competitions. They all looked so proud of him.

“Yuuri was competing for a spot in the Cup of China,” Hiroko, his mother, revealed, pausing between words now that the conversation required a vocabulary she wasn’t used to. “He was so excited. But he got wounded during his program, and it changed everything. He forgot his past.”

A pit opened in Victor’s stomach. 

“He lost his memories?”

“He doesn’t even remember us. We had to take down the posters in his room before he came home, because the doctor said it would confuse him.” 

Victor’s heart broke, for the boy and for his family. Hiroko wrote a few lines on a post-it and handed it to him.

“This is where he lives. If you go see him, don’t try to make him remember, he doesn’t like it.”

“Mom, are you sure it’s okay?” Mari questioned while gathering the empty bowls on the table.

“Yuuri still knows how to skate,” she replied happily. “He can make new memories.”

The implied responsibility started to weigh on Victor's shoulders. He smiled with the same assurance he always showed.

Victor was a good actor: to tell the truth, he had never felt less confident about anything before.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashback time! Get your tissues ready. It'll get sweeter and fluffier at some point, I promise.

_ Four Years Ago _

The crowd cheered as Yuuri reached the center of the ice rink, wearing a beautiful blue and black outfit and looking like a completely different person from the shy kid hiding behind his glasses. He was ready. For the first time, he sincerely believed in himself. He had perfected his short program for months, nailed each and every jump and made his coach proud. Tonight, he competed against skaters he had already beaten in the past, and even if the stakes were higher than ever for all of them, he already knew he would make it.

Closing his eyes for a few seconds, he listened as the noise around him died down, bringing in the unmistakable stillness preceding the first few notes of the melody chosen to accompany him. He thought about  _ him _ . About  _ his _ silver hair glinting under the spotlights, about the way  _ his _ entire body moved on the ice, like a piece of silk floating in the wind.

If he made it, he would meet  _ him _ . All he had to do, was impress  _ him _ enough to catch _ his _ eye.

He still saw  _ him  _ as he soared into the air.  _ His _ face didn’t fade right away when the music stopped or when the screams started, sounding somehow distant. Where was he? What was he looking at, the ceiling?  _ His  _ face kept dancing in his mind, blocking most of his sight. The silver hair turned red. 

Why did he feel so tired? Why…

…

There was a beeping monitor close-by. It sounded extremely annoying. He tried to open his eyes but the light hurt. He wanted to move and felt like his limbs had betrayed him, like they were pushed down against the mattress by an invisible force. He perceived more sounds. Footsteps. Voices. Whispers. His throat was dry, why was he so thirsty? His eyelids were forced open. He winced, closing them again. 

“Do you know where you are?”

No, of course he didn’t know, couldn’t they leave him alone? Who were they anyway?

“Can you tell me your name?”

He wanted to sleep. 

“Sir, what’s your name?”

Why were people asking stupid questions? He was exhausted. But then, he wondered. What was his name, actually? He tried to remember but all he could see were silver silk strands swirling into nothing. Did he even  _ have _ a name? Why was everything so cold and… empty?

Now used to the light, he looked around. The weight on his body lifted little by little and his vision cleared up. More questions came, and for each of them he stayed silent. The man who had bothered him wore a nametag. A doctor? 

“Where…” he coughed, his voice hoarse. “Where am I…?”

“You’ve had a bad fall and you’ve been in a coma for the past three days. Don’t worry, your parents will be there with you soon, they were called as soon as you started to wake up.”

Coma…? His parents? His heart rate went up. The doctor’s hand patted his shoulder. 

“It’s normal to feel disoriented and confused. I’ll come back to check up on you later.”

There was nothing normal about that, Yuuri thought.

And Yuuri was right. Over the next few hours, he saw the tears of a couple of strangers who were supposed to be his family. He thought he should have known, deep down, that they were his mother and father, but he felt nothing, just a pang of guilt at making them cry. He was told it would get better, but it did not. 

Days passed and he learned his name was Yuuri Katsuki, twenty years old. He was told that the language he had been speaking and had understood was Japanese. He could still read, write, and had no trouble walking, but every bit of information he was given about himself seemed to belong to someone else. He got transferred to a hospital closer to what his parents called home and ultimately got out. He was informed after further testing that he had gashed his head open on an ice rink and had traumatic brain injury. The doctor purposely limited the details in the hopes that he would remember them himself. Yuuri lived each day in a daze. He didn’t belong anywhere. When he saw his father lose his self-control at a bunch of reporters who had been ringing the doorbell too often or had pretended to be customers to intrude on his life, he googled himself.

“Could you take me to the ice rink?” he murmured, entering the common area where his mother held his father’s shoulders to calm him down.

They stared at him, wide-eyed, and he saw his sister turn away to wipe the tears threatening to run down her cheeks. 

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he added. “I don’t… remember. But I was a figure skater, right? Maybe it will help?”

His parents’ embrace was warm and loving. He could get used to it… if it didn’t make him want to cry so much. They left Mari in charge of the inn and brought him to the place that, according to them, started his passion for ice skating. He could have sworn he heard someone cry after leaving the reception area.

Dread filled him as he watched the glinting surface in front of him. He feared he would fall. Readjusting his glasses on his nose, he stepped on the ice. Good, he could stand. He started gliding slowly, aware that he was being watched. He took a deep breath and went faster. 

Suddenly, everything became so familiar and so clear that it brought a lump to his throat. His body moved on its own. It knew exactly what it was doing. 

Yuuri came back to the ice rink every day for a long time. Gradually, he began to divide his personality between the talented figure skater and the lost boy who believed he had ruined his family’s happiness. And he wished, every morning when he woke up, that he could just remember one thing from his past, just one, without help from a Google search or a sentence he shouldn’t have heard. 

Soon, the swirling silver strands he kept seeing when he was alone vanished, replaced by darkness. 

It trapped him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry Yuuri *hugs him*


	5. Chapter 5

It was difficult to distinguish between real memories and imagination sometimes, but Yuuri had decided to label everything as fantasy since, as far as he knew, his head still refused to tell him if what it showed him had ever happened. He turned in his bed. Dreaming about the first year since he woke up never felt nice, and he shivered. He used to wake up in tears and sometimes, he’d have trouble breathing. It had gotten so bad at some point that his family had considered getting a service dog in case Yuuri's lungs stopped functioning. None of this happened anymore, just the occasional unease.

Now that he thought about it, it had been a while since he had seen these swirling silver strands of silk. He wondered what they meant, if it was just his mind trying to form thoughts about his lost past or if everyone saw the same thing when they encountered that kind of wound. He had looked it up, and found out he might very well be the only one seeing them. Interestingly, he thought they reminded him of the hair colour of the Russian figure skater he had found so attractive a few weeks ago. 

“Katsuki, I’ll go to the supermarket when I come back, did you need something?”

He yawned and looked at the time. Seven thirty. So much for sleeping in on his day off. He might be used to his roommate waking him up with random noises or questions but it didn’t make it any less annoying. 

“Just toilet paper,” he answered.

“It’s on the list already. See you later.”

He heard the door at the end of the short hallway close and decided to go back to sleep. He had three pillows and a heavy blanket, making his bed a comfy nest he always had trouble getting out of. He buried himself under the sheets, the top of his head sticking out, and drifted back to another world. A world where he wouldn’t need to clean up the next melted, liquefied vegetable forgotten by his roommate. 

When the doorbell rang, Yuuri groaned loudly and contemplated the idea of pretending he wasn’t home. No, what if it was important? It was almost his birthday too, so it could be the mailman if his parents sent him a gift. Or maybe Hiro had forgotten something and lost his key. 

Now this ringing was getting irritating. He put on his glasses, walked down the corridor and opened the door.

“Hi! I’m-”

He blinked, slammed the door shut and his palms started sweating.

What was this foreigner doing here? He looked an awful lot like… 

Yuuri’s hands trembled when he decided to open the door again. He was still dreaming, right?

“Did I scare you?” the man asked, his accent making him even more attractive. “I’m sorry. I’m Victor Nikiforov, and I’ve been looking for you.”

The urge to run away and hide almost got the better of him but Yuuri managed to keep a straight face despite the realization that a living legend he had just heard of recently stood right in front of him. Yuuri’s cheeks changed to a bright shade of red when he also remembered that he was wearing torn up sweatpants and a t-shirt advertising a brand of glow-in-the-dark condoms (he had received it when he turned out to be the millionth customer of his local pharmacy). Now he regretted ignoring Hiro’s wise advice to throw it away. 

“I take it you know who I am,” Victor continued with a dazzling smile usually reserved for the press and his fans.

There was no way he hadn’t seen the shirt, but he didn’t talk about it. Grateful, Yuuri nodded, stepped aside and invited him in without really registering what he was doing.

“Wow, this place is tiny! Is that a carnivorous plant? Can I feed it? Oh, do you have coffee?”

_ His eyes are even prettier in real life, _ Yuuri admired silently. When Victor started fumbling around the kitchen, the Japanese man was brought back to earth.

“I’m sorry but, do we know each other?”

At that point, anyone else would have noticed they were acting inappropriately in someone else’s home but, not Victor. To be fair, no one would ever think about opening every drawer and cupboard in a house they had never visited before. Instead of stopping, Victor hummed a soft melody and turned on the coffee machine. Yuuri repeated his question, and the Russian skater gave him a cup of coffee, sipping his own and gazing at him.

“We do,” he finally acknowledged. “Maybe. I know who you are, and you know who I am, does that count?”

_ Victor Nikiforov made coffee for me, _ he thought, giddy. They sat at the table after Victor removed his dark scarf.

“Have we met before? My memory isn’t very good.”

Victor’s smile right now seemed different from the one Yuuri had seen on his pictures and videos. It made him forget how unsightly he must have seemed since he had still been sleeping a few minutes earlier. 

“We haven’t. I got curious about you and it took me forever to find you, but here I am. This coffee isn’t very good. Do you have food? I’m starving.”

His questions overwhelmed Yuuri, who had to concentrate a little to understand him. He was lacking practice in English, unable to remember if he ever talked to anyone in this language before.. He wasn’t even sure why he sounded rather fluent when he talked but he wasn’t going to complain about his abilities. 

Preparing some food should have been an excuse to run away, if Victor hadn’t followed him to the kitchen. He made a sweet omelet and served it with a small bowl of rice for the both of them. He filled their cups with tea, a much better option than coffee if he trusted his guest’s expression. Eating didn’t stop Victor from talking, and finally, Yuuri had enough. He sighed and called his name in a less polite tone. The Russian man grinned, but eventually shut up. 

“Why are you here?”

“Do I bother you?” His grin widened.

"Victor-”

“I’m here because I’m interested in you.”

“I’m sorry but, I won’t be much help for anything, if you heard about me from my skating days then you already know more than me.”

“Your parents told me.”

_ He went to see my parents? _ The red on his cheek came back, accompanied by a hint of anger. He hated people who bothered his family, they had suffered enough.

“Yuuri,” Victor’s voice lost its frustrating overjoyed tone, “I’ll be very honest with you: I don’t know what possessed me to come and meet you but, after talking with your parents, I’m very interested in seeing you on the rink.”

The younger man calmed down, strangely soothed by his voice.

“They said you could still skate,” the champion continued, “as if your body knew exactly what it was doing when you, yourself, don’t. That’s fascinating.”

“I- when I stand on ice, moving is like breathing to me. I can’t really explain it better.”

“Would you show me?”

He lost himself in the other man’s blue eyes, feeling like he could easily stare at them forever and forgetting his annoyance at his odd behavior. Yes, he would show him anything he asked for, if he looked at him like that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: chapter 6 is currently being written. I'm not on weekend anymore so I won't publish 2 chapters a day for now, but I won't make you wait for 2 weeks before you get the next part, don't worry.


	6. Chapter 6

Alone in his hotel room, Victor missed his dog, his bed and even Yuri’s fits of rage, but could finally rest easy: he had met Yuuri, who looked so adorable with his bed air, red cheeks and glasses. Far from the beautiful boy he had seen on video, but even more endearing.

The fact that he could still skate baffled him, even if it could be considered the same as walking when he thought about it. He finally had a good excuse for staying around. He came to Japan looking for a skater, maybe out of boredom, but found someone he wanted to hug and tease, and it pleased him greatly.

It was the morning after their awkward first encounter - which Victor had deemed awkward only after he left, when the realization of how he had acted dawned on him. The young man woke up early, excited about joining Yuuri at the skate center and not caring that he had basically invited himself… again. 

He had learned, during the hour he spent at Yuuri’s home, that the Japanese man taught kids at the rink, and that he also had a coaching license. Since skating was the only thing he remembered, it had been the best option for him. He refused to come back under the spotlights and had made sure Victor understood and respected his feelings. If he were to post on his beloved Instagram account, Victor would carefully disable his location, and avoid taking pictures of specific landmarks. For now, he hadn’t posted anything.

He checked the time and got dressed in his red and white tracksuit, placing a dark gray, long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of black pants in his sports bag, then grabbed his wallet and headed out. The bitter cold of November chilled his entire body and he laughed at himself. How could he be so sensitive to low temperatures, he was Russian! He figured the heater in his room had just been set too high.

His phone displayed a map of the area. The ice rink was located rather close to the train station, one stop from his hotel, but he figured he could just jog there. If he followed the tracks in a straight line, he wouldn’t get lost.

He ran along a narrow street and only a few minutes later, reached his destination. Why even build two different train stations if there was barely a kilometer between them? He looked around, taking in the sight of a typical Japanese alley with its vending machines, electric wires, low rise buildings and convenience stores, feeling strangely refreshed. It reminded him of Hasetsu and the district where Yu-topia stood. Far from the glamour he was so used to, and so peaceful. He noticed a tiny post office and grinned, thinking of sending a postcard to Yakov and Yuri. 

“Victor?”

He turned around and his heart swelled. 

“Hi, Yuuri!”

“You’re early.”

“I thought it would be further away.”

“Ah, I see. Come in. I’ll go get us something to drink before the kids get here.”

The Japanese skater smiled and moved towards the door, Victor behind him. Now that he saw him dressed normally, hair combed, without this haggard expression he had displayed the day before, the champion wanted to hug him even more. Being this cute should be illegal. Yuuri also seemed less freaked out about his presence and calmly showed him around the empty rink, letting him know that he had several groups to teach today, including children from a nearby kindergarten. Victor agreed to only watch and not meddle. Of course, it was Yuuri’s job, interfering could be troublesome.

His golden bladed skates stayed inside his bag and he sat on a wooden bench, soothed by the sound of the ice resurfacer that just finished its job, a hot latte macchiato from the nearby coffee shop between his fingers. Yuuri lined up the skating aids, refusing his help. Most of them were penguins but Victor noticed one seal and one bright pink polar bear. He pictured the Russian Fairy using that last one. He had met him for the first time when he was still a brat and could easily imagine his determined and angry expression if anyone stole the pink bear from him. Yuuri then grabbed his own bag and joined Victor.

They could already hear the footsteps and excited laughter from the first group.

“The school next door grants them two hours of skating practice every week,” Yuuri explained, putting on his skates. “The kids skate half of the year, and the other half they’re sent to the pool. Their teachers are with them, I’m only around on the rink.”

“How old?” Victor asked, noticing the famous brand of his skates.

“They’re about eight.”

“They still need the penguins?”

“One of them does, he’s scared to let go. But no, the aids are for the next group. Toddlers. If you want to save your ears, I suggest you don’t stay here all day.”

_ There is nowhere else I’d rather be, Yuuri _ , he thought, loving the way his brown eyes shone.

 

*******

 

Yuuri was definitely right about the noise. The Russian man thought his ears would never stop ringing and he did, indeed, take several breaks during the day, walking around the neighborhood or getting to know the coffee shop menu. He ate lunch with Yuuri, then watched him teach two girls who had paid for private lessons in the afternoon. 

The sun was setting when the owner double-checked the locker room and told Yuuri to close when he left. The ice was smooth once again, the machine cooling down in a corner. Victor felt so content when he thought about the genuine smile Yuuri had displayed all day, and he couldn’t help but admire the younger man who, in the low light around them, looked unexpectedly beautiful. He needed more.

“Yuuri, would you show me?”

He felt almost guilty since the other man was probably tired, but he got another smile in response and his heart leapt in his chest.

“I don’t mind, if you promise to drive the Zamboni afterwards. What do you want to see?”

“I promise.” It wasn’t like Victor had never smoothed the ice before. “Do you have a routine?”

Yuuri nodded.

“Kind of,” he muttered, his cheeks reddening even more. 

“Why are you blushing?”

“I-...” he let out a brief sigh. “The first time I stood on the ice again after waking up, somehow I already had a routine to follow. I didn’t know anything about it, my body just danced on its own. It made me feel better so, I still practice it today. I have others but that one is special.”

He suddenly looked mortified and apologized for babbling so much, but Victor couldn’t take his eyes off him and knew he would have gladly listened to him for hours on end. He moved to the edge of the rink while Yuuri stepped inside. The Japanese skater looked unsure for a moment, telling him he had no music for it. Victor reassured him and watched as he took his spot in the center.

Then he moved. The champion’s mouth went dry.

Music wasn’t needed: Victor could hear it, as if Yuuri’s body created it. The light of the setting sun passing through the narrow windows at the top of every wall seemed to set the boy aflame. The ice shimmered under his feet. Slowly, the whole place was bathed in shades of red and orange, and Yuuri was  _ glowing _ . 

Tears welled up in Victor’s eyes and he pressed his knuckles against his lips. He knew these moves. 

This was his choreography. Yuuri Katsuki skated one of Victor Nikiforov’s routines, and it was the only thing he remembered from his past life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! My weekend is here, so I can write again. Thanks for following this story, there are so many of you already, it makes me really happy :D  
> The last scene was inspired by my sister, a now retired figure skater who had her own routine to perform just when the sun set on the rink. It was 10 years ago but I still remember it as one of the most beautiful performances I've ever seen.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter could be titled "hugs"

Victor’s hugs were incredible. 

He hadn’t hugged him just once, but each time they met after Yuuri skated for him for the first time. When he exited the rink on that day, he had immediately been pulled into an unexpected embrace. Victor had squeezed him so tightly, and Yuuri could have sworn he had felt his body shiver against his. Unused to physical contact and affection, he had stood there, frozen, waiting for the older man to come back to his senses. 

Victor had apologized, his gorgeous eyes shining with what Yuuri later understood were tears. 

It had been a week since then. They saw each other every day and Yuuri was already addicted to the hugs. Gone was the awkwardness. They made him feel safe, warm and cared for, something he so desperately needed. They were “home”, the home he didn’t remember, where he could always run to if he needed comfort. He wondered if they were some kind of weird Western custom, but they lasted much longer than anything he had seen on TV unless it involved couples or grief-stricken friends.

Was Victor playing with him? Was he… falling for him? Yuuri’s face burnt with embarrassment and he shook his head.

“Yuuri? Do you want me to let go?”

Startled, he blinked several times until he remembered Victor’s arms were around him. Again. 

“One more minute”, he whispered, receiving a light chuckle in reply. 

They were both standing in the middle of the ice rink after closing time and the Russian champion had seen him try to warm up his hands after locking the last skating aid away. He had put on his own skates - the gold blades had made Yuuri grin - and had joined him on the ice, lacing their fingers together to share some heat. This gesture had evolved into the gentlest embrace and Yuuri had drifted away to another world.

A switch had been flipped a few days earlier, it was obvious. Yuuri still didn’t understand what he had done to make Victor look at him like that, but he never wanted him to stop. He closed his eyes once more, his face buried in the crook of the older man’s neck. He breathed in softly, and smiled. Surprisingly, Victor smelled like passion fruit and he wondered if it was his own soap or if he used the one provided by the hotel. It seemed like an important information right now, and he had no idea why. He just wanted to know, perhaps, just like he wished he could learn more about Victor’s private life.

“Do I smell nice or something?” Victor ended up asking and Yuuri knew, without looking up, that he was smirking.

_ Was I breathing in too intensely? _

“Yes...” His voice sounded like a strangled squeak and he could hardly believe he actually said it.

Victor stepped back slightly and placed a hand under Yuuri’s jaw, gazing into his eyes in a way that made his head spin. 

“Is it really okay? When I hold you…?” the silver-haired man added, his uncertainty so unlike the outrageous personality he displayed publicly.

Yuuri’s lips stretched into a sweet smile which made the tip of Victor’s nose all red - or was it the cold?

“Maybe we should skate a little bit,” he conceded. “Anyway, I’m not that weak. If I didn’t like it, you would know.”

With a laugh, the Russian champion let go of him and circled around him. He then put himself into a starting position Yuuri recognized as the one for the routine he had skated a week prior and, when Victor winked at him, the younger man imitated him. 

They didn’t start in sync, but they quickly caught up with each other. They skated together without music, Victor mirroring Yuuri’s movements or Yuuri mirroring his. The jumps stayed singles or doubles to avoid putting unnecessary strain on their bodies, Yuuri guessed, and no gesture seemed out of place. They shared the ice as if they had practiced together for years, and when they stopped, they once again hugged each other. This time, Yuuri pressed his hands against Victor’s back too.

They both waited for their heartbeat to slow down. Victor ruffled Yuuri’s hair.

“You’re a genius,” the Japanese skater affirmed, in awe of Victor’s talent. Since he didn’t receive an answer, he went on: “I just showed it to you once and you already know it so well!”

“Yuuri.” 

_ Ah… _  The way he said his name gave him goosebumps.  

“Even I can’t learn something if I only see it once,” Victor confided then. “I skated this program six years ago.”

Yuuri slipped and would have fallen if Victor hadn’t been holding him close. Confusion clouded his mind as he tried to understand what he had just heard and panic started to creep inside him. His body went rigid and he had to grip the fabric of Victor’s shirt to stop his hands from shaking.

“I don’t… I don’t understand, you said we didn’t know each other,” he stammered, looking at his companion as if he could find solace in his calm, clear eyes. And he could. It worked. It overwhelmed him: Victor was the answer to his fears.

“We didn’t. You’ve watched me perform it before your accident, and most likely practiced it so much it stuck with you. It’s a perfect copy. You have no idea how glad that makes me, Yuuri.” 

Something new awoke in him, far from the pure, simple admiration he felt for the champion. He suddenly found him unbearably cute, which was a word he would never have thought he’d associate with Victor Nikiforov, and his confidence surged to new heights. He wanted to kiss him, no, he needed to. He rose to the tip of his feet, careful not to slip again, his lips so close to Victor’s he could smell the minty fragrance of his lip balm. Victor’s pupils were visibly dilated now and Yuuri wondered how his own must have looked.

Then he realized.

He remembered he had, in his new life at least, never kissed anyone. That he didn’t know what to do, that he would be ridiculous and that Victor would notice. He moved back, his confidence shattering. 

“It’s okay,” Victor murmured then. “Maybe it’s too early. Do you want to watch the Grand Prix with me?”

Doing something else than spending time here together sounded appealing and Yuuri nodded, feeling sorry for giving him false hopes, because he knew he had been right, Victor had been waiting for more than hugs.

“It’s tonight?” 

“Yeah, it should start in two hours.”

Hiro and Eiko wouldn’t be home and he had more than enough time to take a shower and cook something. Yuuri grinned.

“Then come to my apartment in about one hour.”

“It’s a date!” Victor proclaimed happily. 

Yuuri bit his lower lip. 

“It’s a date…” he repeated, his voice barely audible, as Victor led him out of the rink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All your comments are so amazing T_T *hugs you all*


	8. Chapter 8

Yuri Plisetsky won gold in the Grand Prix Final. As soon as the competition finished, Victor called him. The boy answered his phone so fast that Victor knew he was about to yell, so he made sure he congratulated him first.

“What the hell are you doing, where are you?” Yuri snapped back.

Ah, how he had missed the Russian Fairy’s anger!

“I’m still in Japan. But let’s talk about you! Your step sequence was out of this world, well done.”

“Of course it was, I won.”

Victor couldn’t help but smirk. He was still sitting on Yuuri’s couch and could see the young man getting busy in the kitchen. He knew he was listening to his conversation but couldn’t understand it. As soon as he had started speaking Russian, he had seen Yuuri’s ears turn red and he couldn’t wait for him to come back next to him. Just thinking about their duet, their long embrace and how Yuuri had almost kissed him made his pulse race. He had fallen, and fallen hard. There was no going back now.

“Hey, listen to me!”

“Ah, sorry Yuri. No, wait, that’s getting confusing, I think I’ll call you Yurio.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“What were you saying?”

He listened as the teenager ranted about Yakov who still found something to criticize in his perfect program, and about his ballet coach who had decided to forbid him from eating pirozhki until the end of the season. His annoyance grew so much that Victor had to place the phone further away from his ear. Yuuri chose this moment to walk up to him, placing two mugs on the low table and letting himself fall next to him, almost in Victor’s lap. The Russian man’s arm wrapped around his shoulders instantly and Yuuri snuggled against his chest. It felt like they had been together for years. Victor’s fingers played with the other skater’s hair.

“Victor, seriously, when are you coming back? When you get your license I want you as a coach, remember!”

“I don’t know, I’m pretty happy here.”

“I’ll just wait until you get so forgetful you end up overstaying your visa. Then you’ll get banned from entering the country for - how long was it, fifteen, thirty years?”

“You’ve done your research.”

He glanced at Yuuri to apologize for the duration of his call, but the Japanese man smiled and whispered that he liked hearing him talk in his native language. Victor had never blushed as often as he did since they met.   

“Anyway, you’ll have to come back at some point so, don’t think I’ll forget.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He heard voices he knew well in the background: Phichit, the Thai skater who placed second, and Chris, who would be retiring next season, both apparently quite curious about the Russian Fairy’s phonecall.

“Yurio-”

“DON’T CALL ME YURIO, why are you doing this?”

“Because I know two Yuri now. Is that Chris and Phichit behind you? Can I say hi?”

The teenager grumbled and a few seconds later, Victor switched to English to talk to his former competitors. He felt Yuuri shift against him and almost purred at the warmth of his body. He hung up when the conversation started to venture into risky territory: him being in Japan had apparently reminded Phichit that Yuuri existed. He knew about him due to his obsession with social media. At the time, he had followed the story because he was interested in other Asian skaters, or so he said. Victor wouldn’t let anyone know about the boy in his arms, unless the boy himself wanted to come out of hiding.

“Seeing these guys on TV and then hearing you talk to them right after is weird,” Yuuri murmured, moving slightly to drink his tea. “The Russian one sounded pissed off, is he okay?”

Victor laughed.

“It’s when he’s  _ not  _ pissed off that something’s wrong with him. He has the same name as you, so I gave him a nickname and he doesn’t like it. He’s just an angry kitten.” He looked at the clock on his phone. “Mmh, Yuuri, so far I haven’t been anywhere but in the skate center. It’s still early, do you think we could go out for a drink in Shinjuku or something?”

 

*******

 

The streets were noisy like they could only be on a Saturday night and Victor happily looked at the blinking signs and drunk salarymen, hiding his identity under a black beanie and a thick scarf. Sometimes, his eyes would wander to Yuuri’s face and he would admire the way the lights reflected in his gaze. He seemed so peaceful… Victor liked to think it was his doing. Over the past few days, he had seen him change little by little until the traces of his loneliness vanished. He looked healthier, more serene and laughed easily. Tonight, Victor had told him things he had never told anyone before, not Yurio, not even his own mother. He explained why he cut his hair, or how hard it was to appear perfect as soon as he stepped outside his apartment. He told him about the hardship of hiding who he was at all times and why he had, up until recently, forbidden himself from falling in love so he wouldn’t put himself and his potential boyfriend in trouble with the law in his country. Yuuri sometimes gave his hand a gentle squeeze just to show him he was here with him. Guilt gnawed at him, like he had no right to feel sorry for himself given that his situation was much better than Yuuri’s.

Yet, he talked. Once he started, he couldn’t stop, everything he kept carefully tucked away poured out and he almost cried more than once. The Japanese skater listened. 

They visited a bar, and Yuuri shared his nightmares with his companion. He mentioned how many times he had woken up in tears, shaking violently, sometimes sobbing so loudly he woke Hiro. Alcohol was served. Victor noticed how fast the younger man could drink only when it was too late: Yuuri was now worse than any of the drunkards they had seen outside but seeing him like this made the Russian legend smile. His Yuuri was enchanting, even when he sputtered incoherent sentences. 

Still perfectly lucid, Victor decided it was time to go home. He helped Yuuri put his shoes back on (how they had ended up behind the bar, he didn’t know), then held him close to walk to the train station. Which turned out to be closed.

“Vicchan,” Yuuri moaned then, giggling at the same time, “Ah…電車... 忘れてた...”

He went on in a mix of English and Japanese and seemed unfazed by the fact that they had, apparently, missed the last train back. 

“Are trains not running anymore?” Victor said, trying to get a confirmation from him. He didn’t mind sleeping at a hotel, but he hoped they would find one close by. 

Yuuri giggled even more, then managed to drag him into an alley filled with strange looking buildings and more neon signs. It didn’t take him too long to realize these were love hotels, which he had never seen before in person but had heard about from Chris. The Swiss skater had told him how he should choose one without an actual human receptionist if he didn’t want to be kicked out for being with another man, or to look for hotels advertising the fact that they were open to same sex couples. This proved more difficult than he thought. If any rule was written, it wasn’t in English. Luckily, Yuuri still had enough active braincells to find what they were looking for and book them a room for the whole night.

Victor locked the door behind them when they entered the dimly lit room. The bed took most of the space, a huge, round mattress surrounded by blue veils. Nothing as tacky as Chris said. A large cupboard near the bathroom hid toys and lotions - Victor had opened it looking for a towel. Once he found it, he helped a now less giggly Yuuri out of his clothes. The simple act of opening the first button of his shirt made him want to push him down on the bed. He stored these thoughts away. 

Soon, Yuuri was in his boxers, Victor’s entire face flushed red, and the Japanese skater had no intention of sleeping, as Victor discovered when he sat on his side of the mattress.

It took a few seconds for him to be laying on his back with Yuuri straddling him and kissing him. His body responded to his touch so easily and so fast, Yuuri’s skin was so hot against his, and the little moans and gasps he let out drove him crazy. 

However… Victor knew better. It took a lot of self-control, but he managed to push him away and ignore his disappointed expression. He told him he needed the bathroom. When he came back out, Yuuri had fallen asleep, and the Russian champion sighed, relieved.

He would have loved nothing more than making love to him. But not like this. He wouldn’t take advantage of him, because he knew the sober Yuuri would be horrified by his own behavior the next day. So, he gently pulled the white sheets over the sleeping boy and lay next to him, burying his nose against his back, an arm around his waist. His eyelids grew heavier, and he whispered just a few words he thought he’d never say in his life.

“Я люблю тебя всем сердцем, Солнышко.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used different languages to show when they don't understand each other, I didn't use it for the beginning of the chapter since it's Victor's POV and well, he can understand Yurio. 
> 
> Translation:
> 
> "電車... 忘れてた" (densha... wasureteta): train... I forgot... (trying to say that he had forgotten the train didn't run anymore but well, alcohol is bad for you, people :D )  
> “Я люблю тебя всем сердцем, Солнышко.” (Ya lyublyu tyebya fsyem syertsem, solnyshko): I love you with all my heart, little sun
> 
> -
> 
> After writing this chapter, it's possible the rating could go up (though you won't find detailed sex scenes in this story, it wouldn't fit the tone)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri's emotions are a rollercoaster in this one.

Yuuri opened his eyes, feeling like he had made some terrible life choices now that a throbbing pain attacked his head. His vision was too blurry and his nausea made it worse. He tried to find his glasses but couldn’t reach the nightstand, only some strange curtains that he instantly let go of. His eyes widened. Now, he felt them, the arms around his waist - his naked waist. He sat up, confused. Images of the previous night flashed in his mind. The drinks, the tears, the laughter, and finally the kiss and how unrestrained he had been, how Victor had reacted to his touch yet hadn’t let him go any further… He hid his face in his palms and groaned. Leaving now and never looking back tempted him greatly.

He ended up finding his glasses and glanced at Victor. Sweet, gorgeous Victor. This morning would have been perfect if his head wasn’t about to explode and if he didn’t wish he could crawl into a hole in shame.

He gently escaped from the bed and closed the door to the bathroom behind him. He snorted at his reflection in the mirror: he looked dreadful. After brushing his teeth, he jumped in the shower and as he was choosing a shampoo (there were five different bottles), he could feel his pain lessen slightly. So, he thought about Victor.

He knew he was in love with this man now, craving his hugs and melting each time he heard his voice, then missing him so much as soon as he went back to his hotel at the end of the day. Just thinking about him going back to Russia choked him up. His feelings moved too fast, they were too strong, his emotions scattered all over the place. Victor filled the void in him, so what would he do without him? 

The Russian skater wanted to know the Yuuri he was now, not the one he might have been before his accident. He didn’t mourn the old him and could look at him in awe without any bitter, hopeless wish to see him change. Victor made him love life. 

He turned off the water and turned around to get out. He absently remarked he forgot to put the bath mat under his feet, yawned and grabbed a towel on the closest rack. When he bent over to dry his legs, he slipped.

He fell forward. His knee hit the metal handle on the side of the bathtub, his forehead smashed against the tiles. He caught his breath and heard a knock at the door. Moving his arms sent painful tingles in his shoulders. 

“Yuuri? What’s wrong, can I come in?” Victor sounded worried.

“I’m okay,” he replied, pulling himself together and sitting on the cold floor. “I fell, but I’m fine. I just need a minute.”

He moved his arm in a circle, wondering how big his future bruise would be, and put his boxers back on. When he opened the door, Victor was still standing there. A second later, Yuuri was pulled into the softest hug and chuckled.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he murmured.

“Don’t worry about it. I know another side of you now! Are you really okay? That was loud, did you hurt yourself?”

“My arm is a bit numb and I hit my face. Stop me next time, I want to throw up and my head is killing me.”

“That tends to happen when you drink,” Victor grinned and caressed his hair. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

 

 

*******

 

 

If Yuuri had had to work today, he would have called in sick. The train ride had seemed to last all day, and he was now wrapped in a blanket, laying on the sofa. Victor had gone sightseeing after Yuuri insisted. The Russian champion had been ready to stay by his side but Yuuri felt too guilty to let him take care of him, though he did accept his help when he had stumbled into the apartment. Victor had made him breakfast and prepared his medicine before leaving. As much as he wanted to eat, he couldn’t bring himself to. 

He heard voices and giggles, and moaned in disappointment. Hiro and Eiko. That meant noise, and company, and the only person he wanted to be with was out somewhere taking pictures of famous landmarks because he chased him out. Today should have been a good day, celebrating the fact that he had fully understood and accepted how much he loved Victor. 

“Oooh, Katsuki-san drank too much!”

He winced and tightened the blanket around his body, ready to go back to his room. He heard Hiro laugh and found the strength to move towards his bedroom. There was a reason he had chosen the living room as his first resting spot: Victor’s lingering scent appeased him.

He didn’t realize he had fallen asleep until Eiko brought him a glass of water.

“You don’t need to do that,” he grunted, his throat dry.

“I’m practically living here, I can be nice to my almost-roommate. Drink.”

Still on edge, Yuuri obeyed, feeling a bit better but still drowsy. Eiko didn’t seem ready to leave though, so he waited quietly.

“I saw you,” she then boasted, a smile appearing on her lips. “You’re so lucky!”

He frowned and a cold shiver ran down his spine.

“How long have you two been together?”

“What…?” He couldn’t recognize his own voice. She had seen… what?

“You and that tall guy!” she insisted. “No wonder Hiro was no help in finding you a girlfriend. I saw you enter a love hotel.”

Color drained from his face.

“It’s not… it’s not like that, it’s- get out!” Now he had done it. He couldn’t suppress his panic. She had found out, and Hiro had most likely seen them too. He never wanted anyone to know. His sexuality wasn’t something he was ready to share with anyone but Victor. He felt like crying.

Eiko walked away but still kept smiling.

“Katsuki-san. Yuuri,” she corrected herself, as if calling him by his given name would help, “you’ll be okay. I know we’re not exactly on the best of terms but you shouldn’t be scared of me.”

Scared? Who was scared? Who… He turned to face the window. She was right. He was terrified, not just of her but of everything, because keeping his true self a secret was like building a concrete wall into his mind, and it was now crumbling. Victor had managed to create a door in it and Yuuri willingly opened it for him, but he wasn't ready to give the key to other people. With the wall gone, he imagined going back to the darkness he had barely escaped from, where he would be alone again. He wanted to call Victor, and remembered he didn’t have his number yet.

He didn’t hear what Eiko said before leaving the room. He clutched his blanket and froze.

The black emptiness came back, and he noticed the silver silk strands twirling in the center. Seeing them again brought him some sort of peace, so he concentrated on them. They floated all around his mind, soothing him, until the void behind them didn’t seem so deep anymore. They moved faster, and more of them appeared. They ended up forming a shape, that became clearer and clearer as the blackness dissolved.

Yuuri noticed the silver silk strands were beautiful long hair. The shape became Victor, and suddenly Yuuri was there, watching him dance and glide to earn a gold medal. The feeling of the cold seat under his thighs was much too real but it didn’t matter, because he was seeing an angel right in front of him.

He kicked the blanket on the floor and sat up so fast his head started spinning. Breathless, he hugged his pillow against his chest tightly. 

He remembered going to see the World Championship in Tokyo a long time ago. He had received a ticket for his birthday, and he was lucky enough to even meet Victor in person. He had a picture somewhere, back in Hasetsu. He didn’t even need to focus, it appeared in his memory as if he had just seen it a minute ago. Victor, so young and pretty, was hugging him and smiling… because Yuuri, overwhelmed, had started crying with happiness before the photo was taken.

He didn't care if he still felt sick. He knew which hotel Victor was staying at, and even if he had to wait for hours in front of his door until he came back, he would go to him. And this time, he would ask for his number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victor's hugs feel so good to Yuuri because his body remembers them :3 oh, also, rating goes up, I've decided.


	10. Chapter 10

Yuuri’s grip on his phone was just tight enough to stop his hands from shaking. The tea he had been offered by the hotel staff while he waited in the lobby showed how distraught he must have looked since no one would have bothered giving him anything otherwise. Both receptionists kept stealing worried glances at him. The Japanese skater had only been there for half an hour when Victor came back.

The champion saw him instantly and ran to him, blinking in confusion. Yuuri refrained from clutching to his jacket, but he was falling apart and couldn’t answer when asked if he was alright - and the frown on Victor’s face almost made him cry. He felt like his voice was trapped.

He didn’t look around when he was led to the elevator, Victor’s arm around his shoulders. He didn’t register the floor number, or the colour of the carpet they walked on. He noticed the sheets were soft and the pillow plump and fluffy. Soon, he was wrapped in a warm cocoon, realizing, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he was only wearing his boxer briefs.

When he woke up later, Victor was holding his hand, reading a book right next to him. The Russian smiled, placed the book on the nightstand and brushed Yuuri’s hair away from his forehead.

“Feeling better?”

Yuuri coughed, sat up and drank from the glass Victor gave him. The clock on the wall read 4pm. His palm was still hot after being held for so long. 

He nuzzled against Victor’s shoulder and sighed. His nausea, panic and headache were all gone. Victor kissed his hair. 

“I’ve been found out,” he murmured, grateful to his companion for waiting until he was ready to talk. “My roommate saw us and now his girlfriend thinks we’re together.”

Victor laced his arms around his waist.

“Are we?”

Yuuri’s fingers traced spirals on the other man’s shirt and he chewed on his bottom lip.

“Do you want us to be, Yuuri?” Victor asked again.

The Japanese skater looked at the clock. After five seconds, he exhaled as slowly as he could, then looked up and found Victor gazing at him, his perfect blue eyes shimmering with affection and kindness.

“Are you going back to Russia?” he said, and a hand cupped his chin.

“Should I?”

“I- I don’t know-”

“Yuuri, do you want to be with me?”

Did he? Victor drowned him in bliss, and he thought he would wither away and die without him. He couldn’t go back to how he was before he showed up at his door. Eventually, he nodded. 

“Then I’m not leaving.”

The way Victor spoke made his entire body shiver, and warmth spread from his face to his toes when he placed the gentlest kiss on his lips. It gave him so much confidence it felt like a spell had just been cast on him.

He let Victor nibble on his lips and tease them with the tip of his tongue and followed his lead, not knowing what he should do but taking cues in the older man’s reactions. He felt his hands press against the small of his back and couldn’t remember when Victor had pushed him back down on the mattress and moved on top of him. He tried sucking on the Russian’s bottom lip and earned a moan in response. His fingers lost themselves in the soft silver hair he treasured so much.

Victor planted kisses on his chin, his jaw and below his ear, murmuring words Yuuri couldn’t understand. 

“Я всю... жизнь... ждал тебя…”  

Yuuri arched against him. 

“Victor, I remember…” he breathed, his body on fire. “I remember you…”

He thought it would be a good thing to say now, and the champion seemed too shocked to continue marking his neck. He pulled away slightly. Both of them were out of breath, their cheeks flushed. Yuuri fell even more in love with him, wondering how it was even possible to be this crazy about someone. 

“I met you in Tokyo a long time ago and you hugged me because I was crying.”

_ And I kinda want to cry now too _ .

“Your memories are back?” Victor’s surprised expression made Yuuri blush. 

“No, just this one… God, I put snot all over you that day.”

The hug this time happened so fast and was so tight Yuuri thought his ribs might break. Victor let him go and kissed him again. Bewildered, the Japanese watched as tears started glinting on his long eyelashes. 

“It was you!” 

“Are you telling me you remember that too?” he snickered, doubtful - the legend had too many fans, after all.

“Of course I do, you were the youngest, happiest and cutest fan I had ever met up til then and it was my first time in Japan. I remember the snot too but who cares? You gave me a blue rose. I’m really sorry I didn’t realize it earlier. You’re all grown up.”

Yuuri’s heart almost leapt out of his chest.

“You were young, happy and cute too…” he mumbled.

“You mean I’m not any of that anymore?”

Another kiss, deeper this time, and Yuuri sat on Victor’s lap. He realized how Victor must feel about Yuuri remembering him before he even remembered his own parents, and he understood he would indeed never leave him. He couldn’t stop smiling.

“What did you tell me, earlier?” he cooed, pecking the tip of his nose.

The blush on Victor’s face became even more obvious. Yuuri liked seeing him shy.

“I waited all my life for you,” the Russian translated, looking at the bedsheets.

“Say it again,” he purred.

“Я всю жизнь ждал тебя.”

“Again.”

“Yuuri…”

“Victor, say it again for me.”

“Я люблю тебя.”

“Is that “I love you”?”

“да."

“Mh. I love you more.”

“Нет, я люблю тебя еще больше.”

Giggling, knowing full well how silly they acted but refusing to put an end to it, Yuuri continued to tease him, until the laughter, sweet words and pet names were replaced by moans and sighs, and until they both felt dizzy with the feeling of skin on skin.

 

 

*

 

 

Yuuri stirred, putting his glasses on, after Victor woke him from his blissful rest to go to the bathroom. His body ached and tingled in places he was not used to be so conscious of. Smiling, he grabbed his phone, remembering he needed to ask for his lover’s number. He found three missed calls and seven messages from Hiro. Honestly, right now, he didn’t care if he received the worst insults. But when he opened them, guilt invaded him. 

 

_ Hey, Eiko said you freaked out, you okay? _

_ forgot your jacket _

_ where are you? _

_ i don’t care if you’re gay we’re ordering pizza  _

_ your bf can come too _

_ Yuuuuuuuuri, come home for pizza _

_ Pizza’s good. Pizza doesn’t judge you _

 

He buried his face into his pillow. Doubting Hiro and Eiko had been a mistake. If he had been nicer to them, if he had opened up a little, maybe they’d be friends by now. His phone beeped again.

 

_ Pizza the Unjudging is coming in two hours get your ass back home  _

 

He started laughing and joined Victor in the bathroom. The older man, busy brushing his teeth after his shower, had used the passion fruit soap Yuuri liked and the Japanese noticed the Cyrillic characters on the bottle. Good, that meant he was addicted to Victor’s favourite scent, not something from a business hotel. He wrapped his arms around him from behind, kissing his back.

“Want pizza?”

Victor's empty stomach answered him. Yuuri smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm going to stop hoping to update during the week. I'll be updating on Monday/Tuesday every week until the story is over.  
> This one should have been posted yesterday night but I started rewatching the show from the beginning instead of writing so, oops :P
> 
> Yuuri still didn't ask for Victor's number. 
> 
> \-----  
> да: yes  
> Нет, я люблю тебя еще больше: no, I love you more


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a filler chapter, because the next one might be a bit sad (unless it's the next-next-one, there is a hint about it in this chapter), and I don't want to leave you guys with a cliffhanger until Xmas.

If someone had told Victor that, at almost thirty years old, he would be laying on the floor of his boyfriend’s apartment, wrapped in a fluffy, bright blue fleece blanket and giggling because he just fell from the couch, he would never have believed it - and not only because he didn’t think he would ever date anyone. Yet here he was, laughing so hard he could barely breathe, regretting his decision to eat one more pizza slice when his stomach was already full. 

Even four hours after meeting Eiko and Hiro, he could tell they were still in awe, though they tried to act as if a superstar wasn’t watching a horror movie with them. But he was happy for Yuuri. As soon as they had recognized him, they had congratulated Yuuri so much the poor boy had tried to run to his room until Victor had taken his hand. They didn’t have to hide here. The Russian understood it would take a while for Yuuri to get used to it - hell, it felt completely alien to him as well but his slight anxiety, usually much stronger (and disguised behind bright, fake smiles) when he was in his home country, had all but vanished by the time the pizza had arrived.

Yuuri tugged on the blanket but Victor was too weak to come back to the couch. Instead, he opened his arms, having to untangle them from the blanket first, and Yuuri blushed before joining him on the floor. Hiro came back from the kitchen with drinks and Eiko chose to use the entire length of the couch to straighten her legs and arms, her head resting on her boyfriend’s thigh when he sat back down.

A normal evening amongst friends was something Victor never thought he’d be part of. He had always put his career first, preventing himself from meeting anyone who could distract him. School hadn’t exactly been something he enjoyed and he spent more time at the rink than behind a desk, until he just stopped going. Making friends, even if he had wanted to, would have been rather difficult. Being the best was lonely. Christophe and Yurio had been the first, and the only ones, who hadn’t treated him like a god… until Yuuri.

Catching his breath, ignoring the creepy violins enhancing the intensity of the movie, he looked at the man next to him. As much as he appreciated Eiko and Hiro’s company, he wanted to be alone with him right now. 

He rolled on his stomach and gasped, realizing it was a horrible idea, then rolled on his back once more and laughed at Yuuri’s smirk.

“Not used to be so full?” the younger man teased.

“I don’t know, you think you can fill me, Yuuri?”

Eiko hid her face behind her hands and Hiro muttered a “oh crap” which made all of them laugh again. Yuuri didn’t understand what he meant right away but when he did, he gently hit Victor’s chest with his fists, before hiding himself under the blanket.

“Pizza the Unjudging  _ will _ judge you if you give him a blowjob now,” Hiro warned. 

Even Victor blushed at the thought. The Japanese skater pretended to be dead for the next few minutes.

 

 

*

 

Appreciating the rolling movement of the train, Victor briefly touched Yuuri’s gloved hand, knowing the small gesture would be enough to make him smile. He wasn’t mistaken. Yuuri didn’t say anything, but the light dancing in his eyes spoke volumes. 

More than a week had passed since they had decided what their relationship should be and had spent a whole evening together with Yuuri’s roommate, creating bonds that Yuuri had always tried to stay away from. In the end, Victor had stayed the night, cuddling with his partner on his small bed, delighted to smell his scent all around him and to know the younger man was fully his. 

Today, the Russian champion had insisted to visit Meiji Shrine (because he had seen it on TV earlier) and he was once again hiding his identity as best as he could. 

The train stopped and they left, having to switch to another one. The station was so busy, it became a nightmare to even walk without stepping on people’s feet. He had only been there a few times and he already disliked Ikebukuro station. Reaching the correct platform took them much longer than planned and the only reason they were not separated was because he had grabbed Yuuri’s sleeve. They jumped onto the first train coming in and found themselves squashed. 

Victor realized he was stuck to Yuuri’s body, who was embracing him with one arm as if he needed him to support himself when the train moved. His hair smelled like Victor’s shampoo, they had slept together at the hotel after all. Refraining a smile, he held himself by the ceiling handle. 

A few minutes later, they were outside another station and walked on the bridge next to it, to reach the entrance of the large wood area hiding the temple complex. As soon as they stepped under the giant gate, walking on the gravel path, the Russian skater was astonished by how weirdly still everything became.

Despite being located behind a busy train track, in an even busier part of Tokyo, the forest seemed like another world entirely, the only sound coming from their footsteps. At this time of the year, the temple closed early, but they still had enough time not to rush, despite the distance between the entrance and the complex. The silence didn’t feel heavy, only peaceful. They washed their hands, joking about how cold the water was - Victor wanted to splash Yuuri but remembered he had caught a cold and changed his mind. Yuuri walked up to a small shrine and clapped his hands.

Victor admired him, while a small breeze made his scarf dance around his neck. Was he really on a date with this man? Was he really sharing his bed and hearing him say he loved him? Trying not to feel stupid, he joined him, clapped his palms together, and asked for Yuuri’s happiness.

When he opened his eyes, Yuuri had stepped closer. For a brief moment, time stood still. He broke the magic by touching the younger skater’s nose and giving him a warm smile.

“Your nose is red. Still cold?”

“Just irritated from sneezing all day.”

He helped him wrap the scarf even tighter around his face, making him burst out laughing when he struggled.

They chose to walk further down the path instead of going back the way they came from. When they got out of the forest, it was pitch black and an impressive crowd was gathered on the sidewalk as people got out of work and school. 

“Are you working tomorrow?” Victor asked when they went back to Shinjuku to find a restaurant, this time deciding they would avoid drinking.

Yuuri said he only had students in the afternoon, so they could stay out late if he wished. Delighted, Victor looked up the best places to eat on his phone and Yuuri happily followed him, clinging to his arm. Had he decided he could pretend to be drunk? Or did he just not care that people would notice? Victor didn’t mind. He brought him to a small italian restaurant in an alley along the Keio line, very close to one of the numerous exits of the station. Around it stood several ramen shops and cafés. It wasn’t the best looking street but the restaurant itself seemed nice enough, with its white walls and random apparent bricks, and they only had to wait a few minutes to be seated. They were served quickly - Yuuri had the sliced squid and Victor chose seafood pasta. They shared some wine (the Russian made sure they only ordered one glass each), then talked about skating. The Japanese’s smile made his heart flutter. When their fingers started dancing with each others on the table, they agreed to go back outside and spend just a little more time here before heading back to Victor’s hotel.

Once the cold night wrapped itself around them, the champion’s mind ran back to Meiji Shrine. The eerie silence affected him more than he thought and had reminded him of an empty skating rink. Yuuri seemed out of place right now, under the city lights, surrounded by the noise from the pachinko parlors and gaming arcades. 

“Victor, I want one, can we try?”

He blinked and looked at the strangely shaped, flat and fat cat and dog plushies stored inside a UFO catcher inside the nearest arcade. Yuuri was smiling and pointing at them, and Victor found him so adorable he just wanted to hug him and never let go. He loved him so much it almost scared him. 

He refrained from doing anything but holding his shoulder since a group of high school kids stood nearby. He thought he caught a few people staring at them but shrugged, thinking they either recognized him or noticed Yuuri and him were too close to be just friends.  


Just looking at the machine was enough to know how difficult it would be to catch the plushies, so he tried the machine next to it while Yuuri was spending his money, patiently trying to win. The machine Victor chose offered a wide range of small plastic figurines, and some of them represented the exact same cats and dogs, only much smaller and less fluffy.

Yuuri laughed when, after 10 minutes, Victor handed him seven of them. He kept one cat for the Russian Fairy.

“It’s unfair, I didn’t get anything!” the younger man complained, before happily accepting the gift. 

He stuffed them all in his pockets but took one out and gave it back to him. 

“Here. Take one too.”

The black plastic dog ended up in his chest pocket. He wasn’t someone who collected stuff, he just liked winning. But that one? He’d keep it safely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post a few chapters on the 25th/26th/27th because I'm spending Xmas alone and I'll have nothing else to do *violins playing*


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays everyone!  
> I bring some light angst. I'm a bad Santa. This chapter was important for the story and I'm sorry for posting it today, of all days. I'm bringing the fluff back in a few hours, I plan on releasing a few more chapters over the next few days.
> 
> Obviously, the charity gala is completely made up. Have a Yuri/Chris/Phichit-centric chapter! We'll come back to Victor and Yuuri in the next one.

To say that the Russian Fairy was distracted would be an understatement. He fell. He actually fell. He made a fool of himself in front of his competitors during practice and could have sworn he heard the unmistakable sound of a smartphone camera. No need to ask who took his picture. Phichit looked way too innocent right now.

The highest ranked skaters of the Grand Prix gathered in Sochi, preparing for a charity event featuring past and present champions from various competitions. Traditionally, only Russian medalists were invited but a few years ago, Victor Nikiforov had broken this tradition by inviting Christophe Giacometti. It was too late to tell him to leave by the time the organizers had noticed him.

Since then, the December Gala was open to every skater around the world - and the extra money raised since the rules had changed was well worth the headache of dealing with a stubborn Victor. 

The blond teenager glided as fast as he could towards the Thai skater, shaking in anger. No one had been paying any attention to him when he slipped and fell on his back, but they couldn’t stop watching him now. Phichit left the rink in a hurry and Yuri’s chest hit the plastic wall with a loud thud.

“Ouch, that didn’t sound good,” Phichit grinned, taking another picture.

A few months ago, Yuri would have smashed his phone on the ground. Now… he opened his mouth to yell, then shrugged and turned away, skating back to the middle of the rink.

“Are you a magician or something?” 

Phichit looked at the Swiss skater who now stood next to him, bewildered. Last time they had seen Yuri had been at the banquet after the Grand Prix, and he had been just as aggressive as usual. It had only been a few weeks since then but there was something in his green eyes that definitely wasn’t there before.

“Maybe he’s growing up,” he thought, and absently scrolled down his Twitter feed. His eyes widened. “Oh? Victor has a boyfriend.”

Christophe frowned and checked his own feed, ignoring the hundreds of notifications waiting for him since he had made the huge mistake of revealing his private account recently when he was drunk. Sure enough, there he was, a sweet smile stretching his lips, his fingers brushing a strand of dark hair away from another man’s face. Behind them stood a row of UFO catchers.

Christophe had known Victor for years and he had never seen this expression of pure adoration on his face. The Russian champion had never been in love, or at least that was what he had told him, and the Swiss was pretty sure they knew everything about each other. He squinted and enlarged the picture. The other boy looked rather cute with his oversized glasses and the obvious blush on his cheeks.  


“Wait a minute,” Phichit grumbled, before smiling widely. “That’s Yuuri Katsuki!”

“Who?”

“Google.”

Christophe sighed and did his research. It didn’t take long before he stumbled upon the few English articles about the accident and Yuuri’s disappearance, but a brand new one caught his attention. It used the same picture he had just seen and spewed hatred against the Japanese skater, accusing him of “playing with his fans’ feelings” and “dragging Victor down with him”. This was not the kind of thing one would expect to read when someone who vanished suddenly came back. A glance at Phichit informed him that the Thai boy just read the same article.

“I can’t believe this! People thought he was dead, or that he would never recover, nobody knows what really happened and… now they’re reacting like that? I hope he doesn’t see this.”

Sighing, Christophe refrained from saying that he believed Japanese news articles might be just as bad and it would be a miracle if Yuuri could stay unaware of it all. He didn’t know the kid, so what he read only made him slightly angry, but Phichit surprised him. Why did he care so much? 

“A few years ago, I saw Yuuri on TV, for the Japanese Nationals,” Phichit explained, as if he had just heard his thoughts. “He skated beautifully and made a judge cry, so I remember that competition well. He fell and didn’t qualify, but he reminded me of Victor and I thought I should keep an eye on him. I followed his career until he stopped. International media barely knew him and forgot him quickly but local reporters wouldn’t leave him alone. I had a Japanese friend who helped me translate some articles. Yuuri’s family was harassed for months. I never thought he was dead but people kept swearing the accident brought him to his grave. I’m pretty sure he didn’t want to be found.”

“Do you think it’ll be a problem?”

Phichit bit his lower lip and watched Yuri land a perfect quadruple Salchow.

“Could be,” he replied. “Not just for Yuuri. Did anyone know Victor was gay?”

“I did, but I might be the only one. Maybe the angry kitten knew. It should be fine, it’s just one picture and it’s not like they’re kissing-”

“The comments say they were seen entering a love hotel.”

“They’re just comments.”

“They might dig up something.”

Christophe knew it could be bad news for his friend, and he also understood the power of rumours, true or false. Yet he wasn’t too worried. Victor’s fame could help if his relationship was ever proven with more than this adorable picture. Right now, what bothered him the most was that he had been kept in the dark about all of this, and he looked at Victor’s phone number in his contact list, wondering if he should call or leave him alone. He wanted to tease him and ask inappropriate questions. Just when he was about to push the button, he noticed the young Russian’s expression again when the kid moved towards the exit of the rink, a few meters away from them. Were those… tears?

Long blond hair fell, hiding bright green eyes, but not fast enough. Christophe wasn’t blind, and despite his reputation as a flirt who rarely took anything seriously, he wasn’t heartless. He left Phichit behind and walked up to the teenager.

“Hey, Plisetsky, you okay?”  

_Definitely tears._ Yuri took a step back and glared at him.

“Leave me alone.”

“If it’s because you fell, don’t worry, even Victor falls sometimes during practice. One day he fell on his butt and had the biggest bruise so he couldn’t sit for two days.”

His eyebrow twitched.  _ He’s going to claw my eyes out _ , Christophe thought. But Yuri just took a look around them and when he spoke, his voice sounded off somehow.

“If Victor calls you, tell him he’s an asshole! Are you stalking me or something?”

Since when did Yuri need anyone else to carry this kind of message to the silver-haired champion? He spotted Yakov and hurried before he was close enough to hear them.

“Should I tell him something else?”

Yuri blinked and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. It seemed like he was about to say something but struggled too much to put it into words. Yakov was almost on them now.

“He can’t come back, right?”

Christophe’s mouth hung open.  _ Am I hallucinating? _ The skater who tried so hard to conceal his feelings under a constant, loud rage, sounded like a scared child, and before he could even try to understand what he had just heard, he saw him being dragged away by his coach. He barely registered Phichit’s laughter or what he said about taming tigers, but took the time to ask him not to post the pictures of Yuri's fall online. He then excused himself. 

When he called Victor, it wasn’t to tease him about Katsuki anymore.


	13. Chapter 13

Sat on the bathroom floor, water dripping from his hair and mixing with tears on his cheeks, Yuuri could barely breathe. His legs were bent awkwardly under him, his arms limp, his skin pale and cold. There was a small towel rack in front of him but he couldn’t really see it, everything looked blurry. The bathrobe he was wrapped in didn’t bring him any warmth and while he knew Hiro’s hand was pressed firmly against his shoulder, he didn’t feel it. He heard him talk. It sounded like a foreign language. Even with his eyes open, he was seeing the silver strands that he now knew were Victor’s hair.

Something heavy was draped over him. A strong vice kept tightening around his chest and made it harder and harder to breathe. He concentrated on his roommate’s voice as it was the only thing that still felt real. He recognized his name and, from outside the bathroom, Eiko’s concerned questions that he definitely couldn’t answer. He felt lightheaded. 

“-on me, Yuuri. Yuuri!”

He blinked. His position was different. There was something hard under him. The floor? He saw his feet resting on the edge of the bathtube.

“Can you hear me now?”

He nodded. The oppressive weight was gone and he tried to move but Hiro pushed him back down.

“Stay there for a bit. You fainted.”

He couldn’t remember. The door opened.

“Are you alright?” Eiko asked, handing a purple bottle to her boyfriend. Yuuri realized then that he was still in the bathroom, with Hiro sitting right next to him in the tiny space between the sink and the tub. His body was carefully covered with the bathrobe. 

“What happened?” he whispered, before Hiro put a straw in his mouth and told him to sip his drink slowly.

Grape juice. 

“Do you remember what you did before running under the shower?” Hiro continued.

He frowned, and almost breathed in his drink.

**_Katsuki Alive: What Happened? An Exclusive Look Into The Past!_ **

 

**_Yuuri Katsuki’s Elaborate Lie_ **

 

**_Long Lost Japanese Figure Skater Yuuri Katsuki Dating Former World Champion Victor Nikiforov_ **

 

**_Katsuki Has Been Found!_ **

 

**_Katsuki And Nikiforov’s Passionate Love Affair!_ **

 

**_Nikiforov Outed!_ **

 

**_Publicity Stunt? Katsuki’s Incredible Comeback!_ **

 

**_A Look Into Russia’s Anti-Gay Law And What This Means For Nikiforov’s Future_ **

 

There was no way he could forget the headlines he had been bombarded with when he woke up. To be exact, he had found a text from his sister, warning him about being possibly followed and slandered. She apologized for telling him so crudely, but he had to know so he wouldn’t get out of the apartment without a disguise today. This had led to him googling himself. Everything was blown out of proportion due to a single picture taken in secret and a witness who, unfortunately, had told the truth.

The next thing he knew, he was scalding his body under a boiling hot shower to try to calm down, and had started hyperventilating.  

He closed his eyes and continued to drink his grape juice.

“I called Victor,” Eiko announced a few seconds later. “He’s taking a taxi, he’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“You saw…?” Yuuri murmured without opening his eyes.

“It was on TV. I’m really sorry, Yuuri.”

He sighed. She was such a sweet girl after all.

The headlines created a whirlwind in his mind. His anxiety, stemming from having been recognized, was nothing compared to the pure dread he felt about what this all meant for Victor. He couldn’t help but cry again silently. Did he ruin his lover’s life?

There was a knock and Eiko left. Yuuri tried to get up once more, only to meet Hiro’s determined gaze. If he stood up now, he might fall again.

Quick footsteps, and the familiar smell of passion fruit… Hiro left and Victor closed the bathroom door, kneeling where the other man had been sitting until now. Yuuri’s fingers gripped his hand tightly and he looked at his face.

Victor was worried, the tip of his nose red from the cold. He was still wearing his coat which carried the scent of winter, and he removed it carefully before placing a kiss on Yuuri’s knuckles. Then, gently, he cradled him, and the Japanese skater breathed a little easier, his forehead against the soft fabric of his partner’s shirt. They didn’t talk until Yuuri could stand, and when they stepped out of the bathroom, Eiko gave them another bottle of juice and a pack of crackers, telling them she had called Yuuri’s boss to let him know the young man was sick. She then excused herself and followed Hiro outside.

Yuuri tried to apologize once they were alone, and his lover silenced him with a kiss. The bathrobe, then the Russian’s socks, shirt, scarf, pants and underwear formed a trail to Yuuri’s room, breathless moans and heated whispers breaking the morning stillness.

Victor’s skin burned Yuuri’s palms, each kiss they shared felt like worship. Eyes locked, body and mind joined in a slow, almost painful dance. What the younger man needed now was to be in control of something, and Victor let him lead both of them into their own beautiful world. 

Yuuri savoured the grip of his partner’s fingers on his hair, the warmth of his mouth against his neck and the soft moans he could draw out of him each time he moved to meet his hips. He rose, then sat down slowly, so slowly, making Victor gasp and throw his head back. He crossed his feet behind him, caressed his jaw and admired his lips, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his nose and his chin, and Victor smiled oh so wonderfully, with so much love and devotion Yuuri’s heart clenched in his chest.

“I love you,” Yuuri purred, his voice choked with emotion, “I love you so much…”

Victor’s answer might have been an attempt at Japanese, or it might have been in Russian, Yuuri couldn’t hear them well enough to be sure. He was vaguely aware that he had lost control of the situation at some point, Victor laying between his legs, his head resting on his shoulder, catching his breath while rubbing circles on his stomach. He massaged his scalp gently. Watching the Russian skater’s relaxed expression and the way his long eyelashes shivered as he was fighting to stay awake, Yuuri found him almost… fragile?

The headlines were a faraway nightmare, but one of them stayed clearer than the others. A new feeling built up in the Japanese’s heart.

Whatever awaited Victor, he would protect him.

  
  


 

*

 

 

There had been a switch, and Victor was aware of it. The way Yuuri walked or even stood, head high and back straighter than before, showed a brand new confidence. He initiated more hugs, didn’t hesitate to kiss him randomly and acted exactly like Victor always had. He wondered if it would last.

Looking at his fingertips, wrinkled by the duration of the bath they had taken earlier, he waited for his tea to cool down, having burnt his tongue earlier. Yuuri was leaning against him, watching a Disney movie. There was a bright love bite trail going from the younger man’s ear down to his collarbone and every time Victor saw it, he thought he was the luckiest man alive.

He knew about the headlines, and had seen much worse from the Russian media. His phone kept buzzing, so he put it on silent mode. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. It hurt. But what mattered was that his lover was safe.

When Eiko had called him, using Yuuri’s phone, he had panicked. Seeing him on the bathroom floor had been difficult and he had almost teared up, but each kiss that followed had helped, until he thought it didn’t matter anymore. 

Yuuri grabbed a cookie and forced it between his lips. The Russian laughed and took a bite.

“Phone,” his younger partner said, pointing at the blinking blue light.

“It’s probably about to explode from all the notifications.”

“Could be important.”

He stirred and turned the screen on. Known and unknown numbers had tried to reach him, his social media accounts had gone insane and his mailbox was probably begging for mercy by now. He only checked his texts, and bit his lip at Christophe’s only message. This wasn’t like him, usually he would spam him.

_ “Hey, call Yuri, something’s wrong” _

Victor frowned. The Japanese, who caught a glimpse of the screen, paused the movie and straightened up. 

“Yuri’s the angry one, right?”

“Yeah. Can I…?”

Yuuri nodded and kissed him. When Yurio answered, he sounded angrier than usual, and spoke English. He was probably at home since it was early over there, and didn’t want his grandfather to understand him, which only worried Victor more. He seemed outraged to learn that Chris had told the silver-haired man to contact him but quickly changed topics.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he spat.

“It’s not like I could help it, Yurio.”

“DON’T… Oh fuck that, you know what? Call me whatever you want. I don’t care anymore.”

Something broke. Victor could hear it behind the fury and resentment. The teenager was definitely not okay.

“It’s true then? You’re dating him, and you’re serious enough to show it in public? I know you’re not in Russia right now but you knew you’d be recognized at some point.”

“I love him and it’s worth it.”

“Worth never coming back?”

There was pain in his words, something that Yurio always hid so well. Yuuri stood up and hugged him tightly from behind the couch.

“Yurio, is that what’s bothering you? I can apply for a visa or something, I’ll find a way to stay in Japan, and if I can’t, I’ll move somewhere else with Yuuri if he wants to.”

A kiss on his hair made him smile.

“Why should I care if you’re safe or not, you’re supposed to come back and coach me!” Yurio continued.

“You’re worried about me.”

“Am not!”

A pause followed.

“You’re a liar, Nikiforov, and an asshole. You’re just like _ them _ .”

Victor thought about the determined boy who was driven by his will to be better than him. Yurio had been so tiny when they first met and already, he had seen a fire in his eyes. 

Because Yurio’s only family was his grandpa, because everyone else he ever knew left him behind, he clung to the hope that Victor would always be there, as a competitor or as a coach. He wanted the older skater to be proud of him, there was no doubt about it. He took a deep breath, surprised that the kid didn’t hang up on him.

“If you really want me to coach you, it doesn’t matter where, right?”

“Heh?”

“I won’t do your homework for you. Look into what possibilities you have to move abroad. Think about your grandfather, talk with him, and let me know what you find.”

The line went dead, and Victor turned around, his lips meeting Yuuri’s.

“Would it be alright?” he asked softly. “If we lived somewhere... together?”

“Anywhere’s fine. We’ll think of something. I’m proud of you for not letting him down, he sounded heartbroken.”

How did Yuuri become so strong in such a short time? How was it possible that each time they looked at each other, Victor fell even more in love with him?

How could he have lived without him until now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hugs Yurio*


	14. Chapter 14

The articles died down when no one managed to obtain another picture of the couple. January was already there when the scandal was all but forgotten - at least on Victor’s side. It was exactly as Hiro said to Yuuri when the young man fainted: people would forget soon enough. As for Victor, one picture wasn’t enough to make waves if he returned to Russia, and major news networks had done the job for him: it would have been too shameful for their legendary skater to be gay after all and most, if not all media outlets had dismissed the rumour as ridiculous. The ones spewing venom on the first day were quickly silenced. The silver-haired man had always been affectionate with everyone and had many public pictures with Christophe that could be seen as hard evidence of homosexual behaviour, as the media liked to call it. Yet, he had never been called out on those.

He had been careful, refusing to comment when reporters came to find him in the streets or at his hotel - and it worked, but not holding Yuuri’s hand outside was painful. And now, while Victor was mostly left alone, Yuuri wasn’t, as the name of the skate center he worked at spread like wildfire.

The reporters and newscasters were unusually obsessed with someone who had been missing for years and had never competed outside of Japan. Yuuri expected that kind of reaction for a star and he was far from one. He dealt with it just like Victor taught him: ignore them. That worked until they swarmed his workplace and disrupted his lessons. There were talks of parents taking their kids out of their private sessions. They’d hire another teacher or even stop their children from skating entirely. The local schools were looking into other rinks.

If this went on, the skate center, which was already in trouble financially, would close down permanently.

It was still early on a Saturday when Yuuri stepped away from the reception counter, leaving a white envelope between his boss’s calloused fingers. There was sadness in the old woman’s serious gaze and regret in her voice as she said goodbye.

The wind welcomed the young man with an icy embrace when he walked down the street. The sun shone weakly through the morning haze, its warmth too delicate to be of any help as Yuuri shivered under his coat. 

It took him two minutes to meet the first reporter. Another minute to get rid of him, and twenty more to reach his apartment. A grey minivan was parked right down the stairwell, its doors open, and Yuuri caught a glimpse of the boxes stacked inside. He almost ran into Hiro, who was dragging a large suitcase behind him. As he entered the apartment, his eyes met the bright blue irises of the man he loved so dearly.  

“Welcome back, солнышко.”

The hug and kiss that followed made him purr, and the pet name brought colour to his cheeks.

“Your nose is so cold,” Victor continued, his hand lost in Yuuri’s hair. “Yuuri, you’re so beautiful…”

“Victor,” he laughed, gently pushing him away. “How’s everything?” he added, taking a good look around.

“Mostly ready.”

Nothing had changed, or almost. He could see that his favourite mug, his electric kettle and his mixer were missing from their usual spot on the kitchen counter, his fluffy fleece blanket was gone from the couch and some books, DVD and games had been removed from the shelf. He knew the biggest difference would be behind the door at the end of the hallway, and once Victor let go of him, he went inside to observe the space that had been his refuge since he left Hasetsu.

The floor had a few small dents where his chair and desk previously stood and it felt strange to see an empty bed frame in the corner, next to the new mini fridge he barely used. He had cried so many times between these walls, but he had also grown and learned to accept his new self. Victor had loved him here almost every day lately. He blushed and smiled, then closed the door. 

The bathroom smelled like passion fruit, Victor took a shower earlier and used Yuuri’s biggest towel. He grabbed it from the rack and checked that the bag next to the sink contained everything he stored in his drawer - his hairbrush, toothbrush, toothpaste, his collection of hand towels given by his mother, his razor and shaving cream, random medication and vitamins, a ridiculous, bright pink hairnet he didn’t even remember owning (and now couldn't understand _why_ it was there in the first place), and recently, condoms, lube and - was that a cock ring? He hurriedly hid it under the towels.

Hiro was back when he joined Victor in the entrance.  


“If I catch the fucker who revealed where you live, I’ll smash his head against a pole,” Hiro grumbled, and Yuuri, in true “Victor style”, hugged him tightly, feeling him tense up in surprise. He then patted him on the back and leaned against his lover.

“It’s okay,” he said, and it was. “Now you can live with Eiko. Don’t leave vegetables in the fridge anymore and your couple will stay strong!”

“I’ll do my best. Don’t be a stranger. You have my number so, if you need something, let me know. You sure you don’t want your TV? You’re the one who bought it.”

He felt Victor’s arms tightening around his shoulders and smiled.

“Victor says it’s a crappy TV. I’ll survive with my computer when I get my own apartment and I assume he’ll buy another TV if he ever moves in with me later.”

Hiro chuckled.

"Yeah. Well, it was nice living with you, Katsuki."

Another hug, and Yuuri and Victor walked together to the van. The Russian skater took the wheel. One last look, a long sigh, and the apartment complex disappeared from view.

Yuuri fidgeted and bit his lower lip, looking at Victor and at the road ahead.

The media had successfully chased him out of town but somehow, he didn’t feel as devastated as he thought. There was something exciting about starting over willingly and not because of an accident. Things wouldn’t be easy and he knew it: Victor’s passport was stamped with a date that was dangerously close and they would both be staying in Hasetsu until Yuuri found a new job. Being back home with his boyfriend didn’t scare him… but once Victor left? What then?

And what if he never came back?

He quickly drove these thoughts away. He trusted his partner.

The light of the sun was stronger when they reached the highway. Yuuri hummed a melody he thought he had never heard, eyes closed, ready for the long trip to Kyushu.

Somewhere deep in his mind, he knew this music was the one he had used for his last short program.

“How long will you be gone?” he asked after humming the whole song.

“I have no idea, honestly. It can take a while, you know? But we’ll be fine, I’ll call you every day.”

Yuuri nodded, keeping his eyelids closed. Victor’s voice soothed him.

“I’ll miss you so much,” he whispered.

“We still have two weeks and then there is phone sex.”

Yuuri was really glad he hadn’t been drinking anything or he would have choked. His cough turned into shy laughter.

“A webcam is better,” he murmured, and this time he opened his eyes and found his lover grinning, staring at the road but apparently very satisfied with himself.

“Listen to yourself, baby… can we stop at the next gas station?”

“You’re not touching me in a gas station!”

“We’ll just stay in the car-”

“Nope.”

Victor pouted.

“You can’t drive for fourteen hours straight so…” Yuuri scratched his arm nervously and went on: “We… we can stay at a love hotel on the way.”

The pout was replaced by a devilish smirk.

 


	15. Chapter 15

Every day, Victor discovered something new about Yuuri. They were little things no one else had ever noticed, at least he believed so, and they made his heart swell with bliss. 

There was the little noise he made when he was asleep in his arms. He made no sound when they weren’t spooning.

There was that sexy crinkle in his eyes when they looked at each other in bed, and these low, delicious moans he couldn’t silence when a kiss turned into foreplay. 

If he sucked on his earlobe, the Japanese skater would curl the toes of his left foot. 

If he parted his legs, Yuuri would shiver uncontrollably and instinctively try to shield his lower abdomen from view. They both laughed at this now. Victor was delighted that his lover found his own reflexes hilarious. Sex with Yuuri was fun and amazing and more than he could ever have dreamed of.

Yuuri’s neck was more sensitive than his nipples, and massaging around the white, faded stretch mark on his right inner thigh could make him harden surprisingly fast.

Yesterday, after they woke up from a short rest, he had learned that Yuuri would lick his upper lip when he topped. He had learned how strongly he could pin him to the bed and how long he could last, and he had witnessed how easily Yuuri made him fall apart. Victor had been reduced to a panting, blushing, delirious mess.

And just a few hours ago, Victor had cried himself to sleep. His tears flowed because he would be leaving Yuuri when he was at his most vulnerable, when the world learned he was healthy and wanted him back, and when he had to enter the home he felt unwelcome in. He was leaving him just when the younger man had his first direct encounter with the poison anonymous commenters could display on the Internet and the lack of decency certain journalists were capable of. He had no job to go back to and would be so very worried about Victor when he would land in Russia. He was confused by the melodies he kept hearing and singing, understanding now what they were and realizing it meant more memories might find their way back to him. The Russian champion wanted to be there with him when that happened. It terrified him that his ray of sunshine would wake up alone again.

Twelve days left.

When Victor stirred, his eyes were puffy and red. He left the warm bed and locked himself in the hotel bathroom to wash his face. His toothbrush was leaning against Yuuri’s. It made him smile.

They were staying in a cheap hotel near Fukuoka, after the Japanese skater had insisted that spending one more hour on the road was a bad idea due to how tired they both felt. Victor wondered if it wasn’t a way for Yuuri to push back the inevitable meeting with his family… and the more he thought about it, the more convincing it became.

He ended up taking a shower and instead of getting dressed, he slipped under the blanket again as soon as he reached the bed. Yuuri’s mouth twitched and formed a smile. When he opened his eyes, Victor could see infinite love in their deep brown colour.

“Hi, Vitenka...”

He rubbed his nose against his, forgetting everything for a short time. 

“Hi, солнышко.”

And Yuuri murmured how much he loved him. Victor hugged him closer, feeling his warm palm pressed against his heart.

The sweetness lingered an hour later, when they drove closer to the sea, and it didn’t vanish when Hasetsu castle appeared. Victor remembered the way, more or less, though he had never been here in a car, and he only got lost for a minute before finding the wooden entrance of the inn. When he stepped inside, Yuuri standing behind him, he felt like he was the one coming home with a stranger. 

Mari was the first to notice them. They had called her before leaving Tokyo and she had been expecting them.  


“Need any help with your stuff, Yuuri?”

He shook his head. They both needed to eat before they started moving his boxes to his old room. After removing their shoes, they were warmly welcomed by Yuuri’s parents, who thanked Victor for bringing their boy home. The Russian kept looking at his lover, watching out for any sign of anxiety. He knew how to interpret most of his body language now, but he had to admit he wasn’t familiar with his slightly confused expression.

“It’s almost time for lunch,” Yuuri’s mother announced cheerfully, her eyes shining just like her son’s when he was happy. “You can go to Yuuri’s room and change if you want, I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

Victor barely let the door close behind them once they entered the room before wrapping his arms around his lover and pressing himself against his back. He rested his chin on his shoulder and the younger skater took his hand and kissed it.

“I feel weird,” Yuuri confessed.  


The situation reminded him of the "scandal": blown out of proportion. He had expected Yuuri to freak out, and it was uncalled for.

“Are you scared?”

“Maybe. I don’t know them enough anymore so, what if they can’t accept us?”

“Yuuri, I wish I knew the answer.”

They stood still, listening to their own heartbeat. _ I can’t leave him,  _ Victor thought bitterly.  _ I can’t… _

It was like his passport was burning a hole through his chest pocket. To alleviate his nervousness, he stole Yuuri’s glasses and put them on, laughing when the other man turned around and tried to get them back.

“Солнышко, you’re blind as a bat!”

“Victoooor!” Yuuri whined, before giggling madly. 

A quick kiss, and he gave them back to him. 

 

 

*

 

 

Victor wasn’t surprised to see that Hiroko Katsuki had made katsudon. They all sat around the table, the Russian skater making sure his leg was in contact with Yuuri’s as it seemed to calm him down. The topic they talked about might have been too complicated to discuss in English, so Victor just listened to his lover speaking his native language, drinking his words with a tiny smile on his lips. Mari summarized it quickly: it was about unemployment and other administrative nightmares, and he briefly wondered how such a boring topic could produce such lovely sounds. But remembering how Yuuri reacted when he spoke Russian, he knew he could read him a computer manual and still make him blush after all.

“Sorry, Victor,” Hiroko eventually said. “Ah, how long are you staying? We’ll prepare a room.”

He felt Yuuri’s eyes on him. 

“He… can sleep with me,” the boy whispered.

He never thought it would be so hard to keep his chin up now that everyone stared. 

“I mean, I don’t want him to sleep elsewhere.”

“But Yuuri, we have enough space-”

“Mom,” Yuuri’s voice lost its shyness and the champion blinked in surprise. They held hands under the table. “I’d like to introduce him properly: this is Victor, and he and I are dating.”

His father’s eyebrows shot up. Despite his apparent confidence, Yuuri was shaking and his fingers gripped Victor’s so tightly it hurt.

“Mh, so the newspapers were telling the truth?” Mari asked, lighting a cigarette, her face unreadable. “Well, I’m sleeping next door so, don't be loud.”

Yuuri’s grip on his hand relaxed slightly. 

“Dad?”

The man let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his temples before looking at his wife and nodding. She disappeared in the corridor and came back a few minutes later, breaking the uncomfortable silence by dropping a picture on the table. Yuuri blushed and gasped, and Victor took a closer look. 

It was a younger Yuuri, about fourteen years old, sitting at his desk in the room they had just been in earlier. The only difference was that the walls were covered in posters of Victor. 

“What d-does it mean?” the Japanese stammered, and the champion couldn’t help but ruffle his hair. He felt a little bit guilty to have known about the room’s colourful walls since his first visit.

“It means you had a shrine to Victor for years, Yuuri-kun,” his father answered, his accent worse than his wife’s. “It’s not a shock to us. But grandkids would be nice.”

“It doesn’t matter if they’re adopted,” Hiroko confided with a wink, and the next second she was beaming. 

Yuuri let go of Victor’s hand and walked around the table to hug his parents. The Russian skater hadn’t realized how hard it had been to breathe until now.

Mari poked his arm with her index finger and smirked.

“Still doesn’t mean you can enjoy my brother all you want under this roof, you hear me? Wait til there is no one home before pinning him down.”

“Who says I’d be the one doing him?”  _ I’m so glad Yuuri didn’t hear that. _

Mari’s expression was priceless. 

Victor suddenly felt like Yuuri and himself had found their family at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy you guys are sticking around! :D  
> I'll have one more chapter tomorrow for sure ;)
> 
> солнышко : solnyshko : little sun


	16. Chapter 16

There was no prettier sound than Victor’s genuine laughter echoing in the empty ice rink as he held Yuuri’s waist. They spun around, bringing their bodies closer then letting go, gliding gracefully across the white ice. The Russian moved elegantly and each of his gestures seemed effortless even though they were getting harder on his body. When he drew him closer again, Yuuri could hear his ragged breathing. They slowed down then stood still. The younger man clung to his lover’s neck and just looked at him, taking in every little variation of the frozen blue of his eyes, counting the few smile lines he knew Victor was self-conscious about. He kissed his nose. He loved how easily its tip turned red at the slightest drop in temperature. It was the cutest thing he had ever seen. It was sometimes pink in the morning too, when the champion was still asleep and radiating a warmth Yuuri was addicted to.

But this morning, the narrow bed only cradled one person and there was no adorable silver-haired beauty to cuddle with. Yuuri, awoken by the rays of the winter sun through his window, kept his eyes closed. Maybe he could go back to his dream, which was just a replay of their duet from the previous day. They had spent hours alone at the local ice rink, undisturbed, dancing and falling in love over and over again, and now Victor was gone.

Yuuri sighed and grabbed the pillow next to him, breathing in the smell of his partner, imagining he was right here with him. Finally, he looked at his phone, finding a message telling him the plane was about to leave. He regretted not having seen it earlier. Sending a quick response ending with I love you, he turned his attention to the ceiling.

Victor had left in the middle of the night to be in Fukuoka early enough, not bothering to sleep. It had taken a long time for the Japanese skater to rest easy and he had ended up giving in to exhaustion. 

They had spent twelve wonderful days together. Yuuri wondered if it was healthy to be this happy, to love someone that much, and he didn’t care if it wasn’t. 

When he got up, he smiled at the stack of posters on his desk. His parents had given them back to him, and Victor had signed them all with sweet messages that made Mari roll her eyes. Some of them were written in Russian; he had told him what they meant, and they were his favourite, but also the less appropriate. Thankfully, no one could read them. Maybe he’d put these posters back on the walls. 

He went to the bathroom and remembered that Victor forgot his toothbrush and had to buy one at a gas station  - he sent him a picture of it with a sad smiley face. He decided to leave it there, because it meant he would be back soon. After a quick shower, he took the time to visit the house again, finding his sister, barely awake, cramming an empty box in an overflowing cupboard. A smile, and he went on his way.

He couldn’t worry Victor. He had sworn to himself that he would protect him. The shy, scared Yuuri would never be able to do that and he knew how much the Russian regretted leaving him alone in a place he hadn’t wanted to come back to.

In the small corridor he just found, he spotted some light scratches on the dark wooden floor and kneeled down to run his fingers on them. He followed their pattern, finding it relaxing. 

He thought he could hear a kid laughing, and the image of a tiny plastic car flickered before his eyes. So, these lines were his own doing? He moved further, and decided to touch everything he saw. When he reached the corner, his feet stayed clear of the wall. He probably hit his pinky toe way too often there. 

He found a small room with an old TV set and after a few seconds, lay down on the tatamis. He could easily fall asleep again here. But then, the phantom sensation of fingers running through his hair kept him awake. These weren’t Victor’s hands, and they seemed so big - he felt so small! He heard muffled voices, but he knew he was still alone.

His eyes snapped open and he stared at the TV.

There was an old VHS he had wanted to watch, but it was past his bedtime, so he pretended to have fallen asleep right here on the floor, foolishly hoping no one would pick him up and put him to bed. He sat up and felt his eyes fill with tears. He ran back to his room and hugged the pillow again.

 

**To: Vitenka**

When you land, call me, I think my memories are coming back

Love you

 

 

*

 

 

**From: Vitenka**

Hi baby <3 I’m too tired, I think I’ll die. You’re not answering your phone!

 

**To: Vitenka**

AAH sorry I was in the onsen.

Calling now

 

**To: Vitenka**

You’re not picking up -_-

 

**To: Vitenka**

Pick uuuuup

 

**To: Vitenka**

You fell asleep didn’t you

 

**To: Vitenka**

Call me when you see that. I’ll keep my phone with me. Call even if it’s 3am for me <3

 

 

*

 

 

“You forgot me!”

Yuuri didn’t care if the snow was slowly seeping through his clothes after he let himself fall on the remains of a snowman near the inn entrance. He smiled at Victor’s sleepy and whiny tone. How cute could this man get?

“You can talk!”

“I was sleeping!”

“And I was in the bath.”

He heard a small satisfied moan.

“I can finally hear you again,” Victor murmured, and it was obvious he was smiling in the way his voice sounded.

“I miss you too. How was the flight?”

“Long, cold and lonely. You said your remember something?”

“Glimpses of my childhood.”

“Awww tiny Yuuri stumbling on his tiny legs! Oh that reminds me I need to see your baby pictures. So, how do you feel? Are you okay?”

He laughed and reassured him. He wasn’t scared anymore. He felt relaxed, surrounded by the passion fruit scent - he had kept Victor’s soap and used it. 

“If we can talk everyday, it’ll be easier to wait for you,” he added.

“Mmh.”

They listened to each other’s breathing for a few minutes, almost falling asleep.

“I’m going to my apartment now,” the Russian explained when Yuuri inquired about the noise of a bag zipping. “I haven’t seen my dog in a long time, and I need to start sorting through my things.”

“Love, what do you want to do when we move in together?”

_ When. _ Yuuri wanted to roll in the bed, so happy to be able to say this with so much certainty.

“I guess I could be a coach too, right? I was about to become one after all.”

“You need your certificate. You’ll be fine for the first few years but when you’re older and people forget about your legendary skills, it could be harder to teach the best students. I don’t see you trying to keep toddlers from falling flat on their face.”

“Listen to you, so mature!” the champion teased. “I guess you’re right. I don’t have much left to study so, I’ll do that while they get my visa ready.”

“Which one are you applying for?”

There were a few he was eligible for, so Yuuri knew he’d have no trouble with it, however he dreaded the fact that the administration would take its sweet time with his application. Victor then told him how no reporter mentioned anything about their relationship when he got to the airport and how he intended to surprise Yurio who, as far as he knew, still didn’t know he was back home. Despite knowing nothing about the kid, the Japanese felt a strange fondness for him and wished he could meet him, even if it was just to witness a part of Victor’s life he had no access to so far. Maybe he should have gone to Russia too, though that would probably have sparked more rumours.

“I have to go check out now,” the Russian sighed, and Yuuri groaned. He just wanted to keep listening to his voice.

“Call me again later. I swear I won’t put my phone on silent mode anymore.”

“I hope so. I’ll talk to you soon. I love you.”

“Lyub-” he stuttered, failing to impress him with his first attempt at Russian. “I love you too.”

Victor laughed and cooed. Yuuri decided to learn the basics of his language - but first, he needed a job, and he really hoped he could find something in his field again. There was no way he could survive if he had to sell oden at the nearby supermarket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, I thought I wouldn't make it, this chapter was hard to write (mainly because I got distracted all day). But I promised to publish something on the 25th, 26th and 27th so... here we go!  
> Next chapter in 6 days ;)
> 
> I have a huge soft spot for Victor's pink nose.
> 
> Also I know it makes no sense for Victor to stay at a hotel after landing but that's what I do when jetlag attacks even if I'm 2h away from my destination. Airport hotels and "day stay" can be pretty convenient and let's assume Victor didn't sleep a wink in the plane :P


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year !  
> So, this chapter turned out this way because of Kubo-sensei’s recent interview in which she mentioned how Yuuri and Victor can’t live apart from each other. I had planned on going down a similar route anyway but this comment made it a bit darker than planned even though it was supposed to make their relationship even cuter. Blame my brain and the mindset my other fic put me in for the unnecessary angst.

The door of the ice rink closed with a loud thud. Adjusting the straps of his sports bag, Victor smiled and contemplated the sunset. The clouds looked like liquid gold, colouring the otherwise grayish and empty streets like flames. He remembered how Yuuri had skated under a similar light just for him. Snapping a picture with his phone, he sent it to the Japanese, and tightened his black scarf around his neck.

“You coming back tomorrow?” the owner of the rink asked, standing next to him.

“You know I can’t, or my fans will end up finding this place. Thank you for letting me use the rink again.”

With a shrug, the old owner walked to his car.  _ He looks like an older Yakov _ , Victor thought, grinning. 

Victor considered this place his sanctuary where he could skate alone without any pressure or expectation. It was located in a secluded area outside the city and he had been skating there in secret for years, paying a nice sum to rent it after hours once a month. Being here by himself felt like a breath of fresh air and today, he needed it badly.

Being home was confusing. It was like Victor had never left, and at the same time, it seemed like he had been gone for years. He thought he would be delighted to laze around on his blue couch after spending so many weeks far from it, and that the familiarity of his own bed would make it easy to fall asleep. This, however, didn’t happen. Without Yuuri by his side, the Russian couldn’t sit still and his favourite food tasted like ash. He never opened any message that did not come from his lover, never answered calls, and drowned himself in his studies so he could have his coaching license as fast as possible. The exams were close. 

A bark helped him gather his thoughts. His dog, Makkachin, who had been taken care of during his absence, waggled his tail and led the way to the taxi. The seats were old and the car reminded Victor of the one Yurio’s grandfather drove, a tiny, rusty can on wheels. In the rearview mirror, he caught a glimpse of the bags under his eyes. He knew he was in a bad place right now but he struggled to breathe when he wasn’t on the ice. Who knew love could hurt so much?

He received a reply to his picture and Yuuri’s typos erased his sadness for a little while. He imagined how cute he must have looked, so sleepy and warm in his bed when he wrote back. He wanted to run back to him so badly!

Sensing his longing, Makkachin rested his paws on his thigh.

The drive back was a blur. Victor realized he dozed off when the car stopped. Groggily, he paid the driver and took the stairs to the upper floor of the modern building he called home, and was surprised to find the door to his flat unlocked.

Makkachin bounced forward when he opened it.

“Look who decided to show up.”

There was no mistaking this snarky tone. A beautiful blond teenager who clicked his tongue at him, sprawled on the couch and eating sweets Victor thought he had hidden better, could only be the Russian Fairy.  

The kid dropped a bunch of candy wrappers on the floor. 

“Hi, Yurio!” Victor exclaimed, conscious of how fake he sounded. He forgot the young skater had a key to his place.

“Spare me. Your candy sucks by the way.” He rose, hands deep in the pockets of his (ugly) leopard print sweater, and glared while the silver-haired man removed his coat and boots.

“Want some tea or something? Not that you needed me to help yourself.”

“What I want is you to answer your stupid phone!”

Victor ignored him and walked to the kitchen, turning on the kettle before feeding Makkachin. Yurio followed him, observing him, frowning in frustration and obvious concern. He kept talking - screaming - about something but the Russian legend didn’t register any of it. He grabbed his favourite mug, wondering if Yuuri would like it and if he should buy a second one for him, then he remembered the young man wasn’t here with him. He dropped a teabag in the water, followed by two cubes of brown sugar and listened to the clinking sound of the spoon when he turned it slowly. He was ashamed of showing himself like this to Yurio.

He came back to his senses when a plate shattered at his feet.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Yurio snarled then, and Victor blinked, noticing how red his face was and how much his hands shook. 

“That’s my line!” he replied. “Why did you break my plate?”

The blonde opened and closed his mouth like a carp and quickly turned away, marching to the living room. Victor went after him and caught him before he could put his shoes on. Yurio’s face was hidden by his hair but there was no doubt: he was crying. At a loss, Victor forgot how much of a wreck he currently was and forced him to turn around and look up. Yurio screamed a torrent of insults but didn’t kick him or fight back, instead he let himself be pushed towards the couch. Victor sat down with him and offered him a Makkachin tissue box.

“I’m sorry if I did something to piss you off,” he started, because he knew this wasn’t a harmless tantrum anymore. He couldn’t forget the phone call after all.

“Sure you are. It's not like I mind wasting my time talking to someone who doesn't even listen. If you weren’t going to tell me you were back, you should have changed the lock.”

“I didn’t plan to hide forever. I just needed to be alone for a while.”

“Telling me that was too hard? It’s easier if I don’t know, right? So I can’t bug you and you can elope and disappear forever, because now you don’t care about anything. Or you just never cared.”

“I heard you flubbed your jumps last week.”

He bit the inside of his cheek and wished he could learn to shut up. Yurio’s bright green eyes focused on him. He looked so sad it sent a chill down Victor’s spine. The next second, he was holding him close, and the kid sobbed uncontrollably in his arms.

_ So, that’s what I did to him, _ he thought bitterly. Leaving everything behind on a whim, to then live in bliss with his adorable, beautiful, incredible lover, had been unbelievably selfish… and Yurio knew Victor would have stayed in Japan if the law permitted it. A child knew he didn’t matter. How stupid could Victor be? Feeling him sob against his shirt made his heart ache and gave him a wake up call.

Yuuri was fine. Yuuri loved him and knew the feeling was mutual. Yuuri was waiting and knew Victor would come back. Victor didn’t ignore Yuuri and made sure he was constantly reminded of how much he meant to him. But Yurio… Yurio didn’t know if he ever had the slightest importance for the person he looked up to.

Victor had no right to treat him like he was disposable. Reminding him of his failures was the worst thing he could have done, and feeling sorry for himself after being separated from his beloved for just a few days was ridiculous.

“Hey, Yuri,” he said, avoiding the nickname since using it in this situation might be making everything worse. “You’re kinda creeping me out, you know?” 

He guessed the teen had stopped crying but refused to show his face since he kept clinging to his shirt.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” he continued. “I’ll listen now.”

Sniffling, Yurio took a step back and furiously wiped his eyes on his sleeve. He avoided eye contact and sat silently when Victor fetched more tea and gave him a cup. When he talked, his voice sounded too quiet.

“What’s so good about that guy?” he mumbled.

“That’s not what you need to talk about is it?”

“You know what I want.”

Victor sighed softly and sipped his tea.

“And I told you to look into it. I’d be glad to coach you, but you need to be prepared to follow me and Yuuri, not the other way around. I can’t drag Yuuri to Russia.”

“You can and you know it. You just have to keep your hands to yourself outside, like you should already have done in Japan or you wouldn’t have been caught, moron!”

“Yuuri doesn’t speak Russian. He can’t coach kids here.”

“What, you speak Japanese now?” Anger flared in Yurio’s eyes and Victor could read disbelief all over his face. He had a point.

The older man definitely preferred to see him furious rather than heartbroken. He had always followed Yurio’s career closely. The kid was amazingly talented and endearing in the weirdest ways. Victor vaguely knew he had been hurt badly and understood he had a hard time trusting anyone - yet he had taken their bond for granted. He passed a hand in his silver hair, uneasy. He never meant to betray him, he just couldn’t think straight.

“Fuck, I knew people in love turn into blithering idiots but that’s a whole new level,” the blonde spat. “You really like breaking records.You didn’t think that far ahead, heh? What are you going to do in Japan? Coach a famous Japanese skater and get in trouble with everyone because you should be helping a Russian instead? Have that name-thief move in with you. He has experience, so he can coach older kids who can speak English. He can even get tips from Yakov if he has a death wish. He probably has one if he’s dating you. He won’t be in as much trouble as you if he coaches a Russian, because he’s not a legend.”

“Want him to coach you?” Victor snorted.

“WHY WOULD I? I already said-”

“I know.”

“You’re moving too fast, by the way.”

This made him cringe. Yes, he was aware of it. He didn’t need a teenager to remind him of how silly he and Yuuri were acting, but at the same time, he had never felt so strongly about anyone before, and as cliché as it sounded, Yuuri was like a long lost soulmate. But maybe that was how every relationship started. The Russian Fairy left his tea untouched and moved towards the door, putting on his fake leather jacket.

“You told me to take my time to look into stuff and think about Grandpa,” he declared, “I’m telling you to do the same thing. If we’re just trash to you, make sure you tell all of us. I’ll break your fucking legs but I’ll let you go.”

He went outside, and just before the door closed, he yelled:

“BUY MORE CANDY!”

The door slammed shut and Victor smirked. He had a lot to think about.


	18. Chapter 18

The unknown phone number had been trying to reach him five times already when Yuuri checked his missed calls. As far as he knew, no one but Victor, Hiro, Eiko and his family knew his mobile number. He grunted at the thought that someone else had found it and walked to the coffee shop across the street for a late afternoon snack. 

The cherry tree next to the small building was blooming. Too bad Victor missed it. He took a picture of it, thinking of the gorgeous sunsets and snow covered streets his lover kept forwarding to him.

 

**To: Vitenka**

Wish you were here. Aren’t they pretty?

 

**From: Vitenka**

Very <3 

 

**To: Vitenka**

How are you?  


 

**From: Vitenka**

Tired. My bed is too big, too cold and too empty T_T  


 

**To: Vitenka**

I'm sorry :( Take care of yourself, you're worrying me.  


 

**From: Vitenka**

I'll take a nap. I love you Yuuri <3 <3 <3 <3  


 

**To: Vitenka**

I love you too <3  


 

He ordered a chai latte and a blueberry muffin, then sat in a corner on the second floor. There was a window to his right, so he watched the tree with a smile on his face.

Since Victor left, he had bad days, where his anxiety went through the roof and he was reduced to a whimpering mess, alone in his old room. He would eat too much, gain weight, then blame himself and train as hard as if he were still a competitive skater. He didn’t want to feel ashamed about his body when Victor would see him naked again, it had been hard enough to accept that the gorgeous Russian liked his stretch marks. On these bad days, his dreams turned dark and he was reminded of the gaping void in his memories. 

Then there were good days: when he woke up after a good night sleep, or when he realized that he never doubted how much Victor loved him (he had expected his departure to turn him into a nervous wreck but his beloved spammed him with so many texts, pictures and calls that Yuuri could easily believe he thought about him constantly). The best days were also when a memory found its way back.

Most of what he remembered now were smells and feelings, some of them making his body act on its own - the smirk he couldn’t hide when he passed by the storage room, the irrational fear chilling him if he opened the cupboard at the end of the hallway… Mari had taken the time to explain them to him. Storage room? The siblings both hid in there when they knew they had done something wrong. The cupboard? Yuuri was convinced there was a monster inside and believed it until he was nine. 

It became easier to eat with his family and even stay with them to watch TV instead of doing everything to get away. There was no sadness in his mother’s eyes anymore. Mari even took the time to drive him around Hasetsu and see if he could get more flashbacks. They had done it quite a lot after he was released from the hospital but it never worked until now. It didn’t bring much results, except when Yuuri suddenly asked her to stop the car and ran down a narrow street. At the end stood a rusty vending machine and he stared at it for a while until his sister joined him and laughed. Apparently, when Yuuri was in high school, he stopped here everyday because the machine didn’t work properly and instead of giving only one item after it was paid for, it always gave two or three. He tested it, and when two Mars bars fell, he grinned.

Mari told their parents later and they drank in celebration, making Yuuri feel more than welcome.

Today had been, surprisingly, a good day as well. The reporters he had fled from had ended up finding him, and it was the reason why Yuuri was currently in Fukuoka, exhausted yet oddly satisfied. His first reaction, when they had shown up at the inn, had been to slam the door in their faces and go to his room to curl up under a blanket, texting Victor in a panic. The Russian had immediately called him and they had talked for an hour.

Yuuri had decided to do what was best for his family, to avoid the horror they had already been through when they kept having to chase people away for trying to get a glimpse of Yuuri’s private life. 

Today, in Fukuoka, he held a small press conference. He officially announced he was not coming back to compete but was a licensed coach and intended to keep working in this field. He dodged every questions about Victor and gave them an email address he had recently set up if they needed to contact him, asking them not to do it any other way and saying he would only answer what he chose to. He wasn’t a star; he knew, thanks to Victor’s reassurance, that this conference would be enough for a while. They had what they wanted: answers. And Yuuri gained something else, just two hours after the conference aired in the area: his sister messaged him, telling him young skaters were now calling about his coaching rates.

He felt giddy. He just needed an ice rink and he could teach again. It was inconvenient to ask students to come to Hasetsu.

Wondering how much it would cost to rent a rink in Fukuoka if he wasn’t working for the rink owner, he drank his chai latte, then looked at the unknown number again. It could be a journalist, but the number had the same country code as Victor’s. Just as he thought he wouldn’t be brave enough to call back, his phone vibrated loudly, the number blinking on the screen. He took a deep breath and answered in English.

“Hello?”

“FINALLY. Man, you and Victor are made for each other. What’s so hard about answering the phone?”

“I’m sorry but, who is this?” Yuuri asked, before remembering the call Victor answered a few months ago.

“I’m Yuri Plisetsky. What do you know about Russia?”

_ Yep, that’s the kid,  _ he thought. He must have checked his number in Victor’s contacts. He blushed and asked himself if the silver-haired champion had given him a nickname too.

“Not much, why?” he said then, finishing his drink.

“Better learn fast, then!”

“I don’t mean to be rude but why are you calling me?”

“I can’t get through to Victor’s thick skull so I thought maybe I could try with you. What’s “katsudon” anyway?”

“It’s food…” His heart skipped a beat. “Is that how he calls me?”

“I’m not telling!”

Yuuri almost giggled before remembering he was in public.

“I’m sending you some stuff, if you don’t read them I’ll know!” the kid continued, and before Yuuri could say anything, he hung up.

Confused, he waited for the messages to show up, filled with links to several websites - one of them a Russian online course and another a government owned domain. The last message said “do something because Victor is even dumber than usual”.

His smile widened. He put his phone in his pocket and left, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck. It might be spring already but the wind made the temperature drop. He decided to go check out local rinks, his mind wandering back to the call. Talking with Yurio made him happy since it gave him some insight into Victor’s life. He really wanted to know more about how his lover spent his days off, and he wanted to be a part of it, even for just a few weeks. Right now, he couldn’t afford a plane ticket, but if it took too long for Victor to get his papers in order and if he had regular students, maybe he could take a week off  after getting paid a few times. Unless landing in Russia brought problems to both of them, of course. He would need to look into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit shorter than the previous one but I wanted to publish it today so, here you go! See you next week :D
> 
> Btw we had a vending machine that did that in my high school, it was glorious until the teachers found out. We always gathered our courage to go get 2 or 3 Twix from it even if we had to brace ourselves for choking because it was located in the Corridor of Death (the smoking area (yes we had that. no it wasn't forbidden to smoke on school grounds. Still isn't.)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the purpose of this story, I had to de-age Minami. I could have created an OC but I thought it would be easier to picture everything if I used a YOI character. So, Minami is about 14-15, and still competing in Junior. This is because even if Yuuri’s well-known, since he never took part in international competitions and he’s still young and inexperienced as a coach (he was teaching brats and giving private lessons to teenagers who didn’t necessarily intend to pursue skating), becoming a coach for a Senior level skater would be unrealistic despite having his certificate.

Yuuri knew Victor was the clingy type, but he had no idea he could be so sappy. He acted like it annoyed him but of course, he found it endearing and fell like a high school girl each time he received one of his cute, ridiculous messages. To say that he didn’t miss him everyday would be a lie, but while Victor gave the impression that no second passed without thinking about him, Yuuri managed to concentrate on something else. He had an easier time getting used to the distance. Yuuri was no stranger to loneliness, he even craved it, so it was enough to know he was loved from afar. His body didn’t agree however, and he found himself panting in his bed or in the bathroom more often that ever.

He would get aroused by the tiniest memory: Victor’s lips, always soft and warm, sometimes shimmering with the chapstick he always carried in his pocket. Victor’s hair, like silk between Yuri’s fingers. The little self-conscious whimpers he made if the Japanese looked at his hairline for too long. The way his accent manifested itself when he was aroused, becoming stronger, harsher, and sexier with every word he pronounced. How sweet he smelled, how caring he acted. The Russian pet names he gave him, how pure and young he looked when he slept, the way he laughed... 

And then there was how he felt inside him, how incredibly tight he was around him, how he moaned his name and held him closer and closer, how he gave Yuuri so much pleasure and could come just by watching him lose his mind, how he knew exactly how to run his tongue on his cock and where to bite on his thigh, the burning heat of his mouth making Yuuri beg for more…

“Are you okay?”

Yuuri’s eyes snapped open.  _ Oh God. _ He was aware, so aware, of the tightness of his pants and the blush painting his whole face. He wasn’t alone, he wasn’t in his room, he shouldn’t have been thinking about that  _ oh shit what should I do if he sees that I thought only Victor was so obsessed save me please someone. _

Minami Kenjirou seemed worried. His coach looked like he had just stood in front of an open oven for too long after all.

“Do you have a fever? Should I take a break?”

“Ah, no,” Yuuri bit his lower lip and shook his head to get rid of the image of Victor spreading his thighs for him. “C-can you try your double axel triple flip combination again? I didn’t see it properly, I’m sorry.”

“Yes sir!”

He focused on his student’s routine. 

A few months had passed since he had held his press conference and he was back on his feet, teaching at the ice rink in Hasetsu a few times a week, and coaching a promising teenager in Fukuoka the rest of the time. Minami was the only one Yuuri had decided to coach for now, fearing that he would be overwhelmed if he took on more people. He still lived with his parents and helped around the inn to make up for the lack of income, since most of it was used to rent the rink. 

When the blond and red haired kid had landed a triple flip for the first time, Yuuri’s joy and pride had left him breathless, before triggering a series of memories related to his own achievements as a skater. He felt it in his bones, the thrill of landing a difficult jump, and the confidence rushing through him when he knew he would nail it most of the time from then on. Each of his skating memory was accompanied by silver strands of silky hair.

It was no secret that Minami was hoping to qualify for the Junior Grand Prix - and he could succeed, Yuuri knew it. The new season would start in a few days, and both coach and student were already excited about Minami’s participation in the Nationals. Before Yuuri coached him, he had joined this competition as a Novice and won a few medals, even silver in Junior once - this time, he aimed for gold, with a choreography Yuuri felt rather proud of.

It was a weird situation, being ahead of Victor in coaching. His lover trained with Yakov since he had no prior experience as a coach, which meant Yuri Plisetsky currently had two trainers, and the Japanese wasn’t sure it was the best idea. After hearing Victor talk about his former coach, he imagined them bickering constantly and hoped it wouldn’t affect the Russian Fairy’s training. There were other students involved, but the young man had only researched the one he spoke to.

Minami executed his combination flawlessly. Yuuri gave him a thumbs up, glad that his body finally calmed down, and joined him on the bench when the kid took a break.

“Make your movements wider,” he advised. “Your jumps and steps sequences are getting better, now you need to work on your presence. You look tiny on the rink: make them see you.”

Minami nodded, drinking some water.

“How’s your ballet class coming along? It should help, let your teacher know what I’d like to see from you.”

After analyzing the way his students danced on the ice, he pinpointed the major issues he could identify. Unlike a lot of other skaters, his lack of ballet experience was glaringly obvious, mostly because he was so good at everything else that it stuck out even more. Small movements, arms outstretched but not enough… Minami needed to feel the tingling sensation of the stretch in the tip of his fingers, he needed to embrace the audience and offer himself fully, and he needed to work on his flexibility. It wasn’t that he couldn’t bend his body enough, it’s that he didn’t do it properly. He lacked grace. When he first showed one of his past programs to his new coach, Yuuri thought he looked like a stick that could not only fly in the wind but was also on the verge of breaking each time he bent his back.

His tiny gestures were cute for a child; they weren’t good enough for an aspiring Junior champion. 

Yuuri, who wasn’t used to give any kind of criticism, had suggested ballet classes and was seeing some improvement already, hopefully he would see more soon. The Nationals were just around the corner after all. Thankfully, Minami literally drank his words. He refused to think of the disaster it would be if his student had been Yurio.

“You really think I can make it?” Minami asked, but there was no trace of anxiety or self-doubt in his eyes.

Yuuri smiled.

“I trust you,” he said. “So trust me to bring you as far as we can this year.”

“I’ll do my best!”

He watched him leave the bench and go back on the ice. His phone beeped, and he smirked. Yurio sent him a picture of Victor sitting on the ground like a deer in headlights, with the caption “HE WAS DAYDREAMING AND FELL ON HIS ASS. YOU BROKE HIM”.

He truly hoped Minami would qualify and go through his assignments flawlessly. The Grand Prix Final would be held in Sochi, and aside from finally being with Victor, he would get to meet the angry caps lock-obsessed marshmallow who insisted he hated him yet kept sending him pictures.

The future was uncertain. Neither Yuuri nor Victor could leave everything behind at the moment. The Japanese had initially feared that his lover would still fly to Japan as soon as his visa was approved. He would have loved it, but it wasn’t fair to Yurio. Victor could be selfish and Yuuri too selfless. Even if it hurt sometimes to wake up alone, he thanked the incredibly slow administrative processes for keeping Victor’s head where it should be. 

At least it gave him time to learn Russian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another rather short chapter, but I have another one ready for later today :3


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used the 2016 ISU Calendar to figure out when and where to set the competitions and chose Yokohama and Dresden as Minami’s assignments. Despite the previous mentioned “sister was a figure skater” thing, I know next to nothing about how it all works. I’m trying to fit stuff in there to match the story, so I apologize for anything that would be completely wrong or impossible, namely how the Junior competitions work.  
> The Final in 2016 wasn’t in Sochi, but it will be here because reasons. Also the story isn’t necessarily set in 2016 *excuses excuses*

“Katsudon’s student is on.”

Victor ran so fast he almost stepped on an unsuspecting Makkachin who was sleeping near the couch. Yuri, making sure there was no space for anyone else to sit near him but failing because he was too small, focused on his ice cream. He had connected Victor’s PC to the TV since the silver-haired champion wished to see his lover’s face on the biggest screen he owned - disregarding the fact that Yuuri wasn’t competing and would, at most, get 5 seconds of screen time at the Kiss&Cry. This was before he remembered that the stream came from a Japanese website and was filmed by a Japanese reporter. The media from his home country treated him differently from other coaches.

There he was, smiling brightly at a kid with dyed hair, both hands on his shoulders. The kid was nodding enthusiastically. When he stepped on the ice, the camera lingered on Yuuri’s face a little too long.

Victor’s heart swelled in his chest. His Yuuri looked so beautiful! He was dressed in a light brown coat, hair slicked back. His blue glasses were gone; he wore a new pair with a thin black frame that made him look more serious and a bit older. He was gorgeous. The camera switched to Minami and his free program started.

The Russian champion yelped when Yurio kicked him off the couch he had somehow managed to sit on.

“Stop drooling,” he snapped. 

“You shouldn’t eat that much ice cream.”

“Shut up, I’m in my growth phase. You told me the same thing about my grandpa’s pirozhki. I’m not sharing them anymore either, don’t look at me like that, you’re gross.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. I meant that you have an interview and a long training session tomorrow and if you get a stomachache it’ll reflect badly on Yakov and me.”

“If you didn’t have it in your freezer in the first place that wouldn’t happen.” He licked the spoon and snorted. “That kid sucks.”

Victor didn’t react, but he sat back down on the couch, pushing the teenager’s feet (clad in the worst tiger striped fluffy socks he had ever seen) away. It was far from true. Minami was good. He sometimes forgot that skaters as talented as himself or Yurio at such a young age were rare. If they were both competing against him, he would be knocked off the podium for sure, but Minami didn’t have anyone of their caliber to surpass. He could get gold. 

Sometimes, the camera would show Yuuri’s glittering brown eyes. They focused on him again when his student left the rink.

He had lost quite a few points the previous day and Victor didn’t know why (the stream couldn’t connect for most of his short program), but his total score turned out fine. Nothing fancy, but enough to earn him a silver medal. He squealed in delight, barring his teeth (one of them misaligned, giving him a childish grin) and hugged Yuuri, whose professional demeanor took Victor aback.

“Told you he sucked. Can’t believe you made me get out of bed to watch that crap.”

“This is the Junior Grand Prix, not some regional contest. He got silver.”

“Exactly.”

Of course, silver would never be good enough for the Russian Fairy. The older man turned off the TV when it was clear Yuuri wouldn’t appear anymore. Just one more month, and Yuuri would land in Germany for Minami’s next assignment. Victor hoped he could join him. He wanted to book the best room in the best hotel just to spend some time with him.

He sighed, looking at the dark screen. 

“We don’t have anything planned for October, right?” he asked, and Yurio rolled his eyes.

“Training everyday, rings a bell?”

“You can survive for 3 days,” he answered, a frown marring his handsome features.

“Mila can’t.”

His throat went dry and he blinked in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

Yurio stood up and threw away the empty box of ice cream.

“What a great coach you are. Mila’s participating in the Finlandia Trophy. They’re at the same time. Yakov wanted you to go with her so he can keep training us here. I thought Katsudon was supposed to be the one with memory problems, seriously.”

If Victor had been a kid, he would have burst into tears. Instead, he just swallowed the news like a large, bitter pill, and wished he hadn’t invited Yurio over on their day off so he could just go back to bed.

 

 

*

 

 

Unfortunately for Victor, once October came, there was no avoiding his fate. It was much more convenient to send one coach to Finland instead of traveling with the whole group like they usually did, and it would be a good experience if Victor managed to act like a coach and not like the silly champion Mila knew so well.

He had just showered after the first day of competition. Mila had been fantastic. If she kept it up, she’d get gold. She was hanging out with her parents, leaving her coach alone in a hotel room that felt cold and uninviting. The bed was much too big. Victor wondered how it would be to make love to Yuuri here, or how wonderful it would feel to wake up in his arms. Drying his hair with a white towel, he tightened the belt of his bathrobe and looked at his phone. His eyes lit up.

 

1 New Message

 

**From: My Katsudon <3**

How was Mila’s SP? Minami did great, I don’t want to jinx it but I think we’re going to Sochi. I can’t believe it’s been almost a year since we met, I miss you so much! 7 months without you is horrible. I remembered a ridiculous free skate I did as a Novice today. It was so bad, I’m glad there was not that much social media back then. 

Call me when you get this. I love you.

 

Victor beamed and pressed the call button. They talked everyday, but Yuuri’s voice still created ripples of joy through his entire body.

“Hi love.”

“Hi, Vitenka.”

There was always a softness in their greetings, they could hear the smile in each other’s tone.

“Hiro and Eiko say hi too,” Yuuri started.

“Oh? Did you meet up with them?”

“Yeah, we ate out after the competition. I told them I’d be in Yokohama. They even got tickets for tomorrow’s free skate, they want to see how Minami’s doing.”

“I’m glad you’re keeping in touch.”

“I couldn’t just forget them, not after Pizza the Unjudging.”

Victor snorted.

“I want to skate with you,” Yuuri whispered again.

“Can we do it? After Sochi, do you have a few days to stay with me?” the Russian replied, hopeful.

“If you’re free, yes.”

Victor chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“I have to follow Yakov but as far as I know, he’s going back to St. Petersburg to prepare for the Europeans. Do you… want to come with me?”

“You don’t need to ask!” Yuuri laughed, sounding like a peaceful wind chime to Victor’s ears. “Alright, I’ll see how I can do that with Minami in tow. If he makes it to the finale, he’s not going to compete until Junior Worlds so I can afford to take a few days off.”

Victor fell back on the pillow with a huge grin. Yuuri was coming. Yuuri would be in his apartment. Yuuri’s scent would linger in his bed. Yuuri’s toothbrush would be in his bathroom, and they would cuddle on Victor’s couch.

“I’m so happy, Yuuri!” he croaked, his voice betraying his emotions.

The Japanese laughed softly.

They talked for an hour before it became obvious that Yuuri was having troubles keeping his eyes open. Victor kept smiling long after the call ended, then looked at the passport in his wallet. His brand new work permit seemed to call out to him, but he only sighed. Now wasn’t the right time to make stupid decisions, however there was still something he could do with no repercussion on his job. He grabbed his phone again.

 

**To: Mila**

Is it ok if I leave you at the rink for an hour tomorrow?

 

**From: Mila**

Depends, are you leaving me during my free skate?

 

**To: Mila**

Very funny. I need to go buy something.

 

**From: Mila**

Go in the morning after breakfast, I’ll survive. I can do my stretching exercises just fine by myself. What do you want to buy? If you go to that shop we saw yesterday I’m coming too.

 

**To: Mila**

It’s not. We can go there before the flight tomorrow if you want. I need to buy something for Yuuri.

 

**From: Mila**

OMG

 

**From: Mila**

It’s the OTHER shop is it

 

**From: Mila**

The one you stopped at forever. I thought you’d merge with the window.

 

**From: Mila**

Victor it’s a ring right? TELL ME IT’S A RING

 

**From: Mila**

VICTOR

 

**To: Mila**

Maybe

 

**From: Mila**

I’m telling the kitten

 

**From: The Anger-fueled Fluffball**

ARE YOU KIDDING ME???!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost the end! There should be 3 more chapters, maybe 4. I did my best to get 2 chapters out today so I could write a chapter for Wishes and Thorns too, I'll see which of these fics gets its next chapter first.
> 
> As always, thank you everyone for following this story, you're giving me so much motivation and it makes me so happy to see so many people liking this story!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri has a surprise for Victor :3

Yuuri had barely slept on the plane. He didn’t know if he used to be able to drift off during a flight as a teenager, but he was sure he couldn’t keep his eyes closed for more than 10 minutes now. And this time, it wasn’t because he had an overexcited teenager sitting next to him. Minami was still in Japan. He would travel with his mother to Sochi for the Grand Prix Final, however he needed to attend his great-grandmother’s birthday first. She would be a hundred years old. Any other coach would have deemed this decision irresponsible, so close to the competition, but not Yuuri. He knew how easy it was to lose your home and your family. He had struggled so much to get them back. He didn’t want Minami to miss out on anything. They had talked about it several times, and when Minami said he was sure about it and would rather celebrate with his great-grandma than get a gold medal, Yuuri had decided to take a few days off himself.

He didn’t fly to Sochi, but to St. Petersburg.

Bundled up in a warm coat, he dragged a heavy suitcase behind him and his backpack looked ready to burst. He clutched his phone in his free hand. 

He hadn’t felt anxious in a long time, but right now, he needed to control his breathing or he would freak out. Was he making a mistake? Should he have stayed in Japan and left with Minami? He suddenly craved his mother’s katsudon. When his eyes met the bright green ones of a gorgeous blond teen, he felt slightly better, and walked up to him.

“You look like shit.”

“Nice to meet you too, Yurio,” he said, tired and jetlagged. It was late at night in Japan, he should be in his warm bed, not in a foreign airport, meeting up with a kid he had only spoken to a few times on the phone.

Yurio scowled and huffed.

“Hurry up, my grandpa is waiting.”

Nodding, he followed the young skater. He thought he would freeze on the spot when the doors opened. Smiling to Yurio’s grandpa was almost impossible because his face felt like a layer of ice was covering it, but he hoped his eyes would show how grateful he was. If no one had picked him up, he would have been completely lost.

Yurio’s grandpa didn’t speak much English, but he was friendly. Yuuri gave him a gift he brought from Japan - snacks and rice crackers, since Yurio had told him his grandpa loved peanuts and other salty treats - and sat at the back of the worn out car.

He tried to keep up with their discussion, finding Yurio adorable in the way he smiled at his grandfather, but his Russian wasn’t good enough to follow a rapid conversation. He wondered what Victor would think once he’d discover that he now had some conversational skills.

He dozed off, the movements of the car making him even sleepier. When he woke up, they had stopped in front of a fancy and modern-looking building. It was four stories high, painted a light shade of pink, with high and wide windows and a dark-tiled roof. A highly secured gate hid most of the small garden currently covered with snow. Yuuri gasped: on the side of the house, he spotted a cubic tower with a pointed roof. A  _ tower _ . Like the manors he often saw in Disney movies, except this one had a modern design. He shouldn’t have been surprised: this was Victor Nikiforov’s home after all. He lived on the fourth floor.

He might have been exhausted (sleeping in the car had made it worse) but he still couldn’t wait to visit it. Yurio dialed a code on his phone and the gate opened, but the path hadn’t been cleaned up and the snow prevented them from driving inside. The teenager was the first to get out, and he grabbed Yuuri’s backpack, cursing and complaining about its weight. His grandfather locked the car and walked with the Japanese, who had trouble carrying his luggage in the snow. Yurio unlocked the double door and stepped inside.

A few more words were exchanged and Yurio’s grandfather smiled warmly at Yuuri, shook his hand, and went back to the car.

“Don’t look so confused,” Yurio spat once they reached the apartment, removing his shoes and turning on the light in the main hall. The young man imitated him and stared at the stylish decor.

The apartment, which took the entire fourth floor, looked like an advertisement, or a picture for an interior designer’s portfolio. The wooden floor felt nice against the sole of his feet and the simple furniture caught his eye. Whoever designed this place had simplicity and warmth in mind. At first glance, there weren’t many personal belongings and the walls seemed slightly too empty, but that was only the hallway after all.

“Come on, Katsudon, I don’t have all day!”

He hurried behind Yurio, leaving his suitcase behind. The kid led him to a lounge and Yuuri smiled at the numerous books on the shelves. A large window let the cold light of winter fall on a blue couch. The next door Yurio opened was the bathroom, an inviting mix of dark grey tiles and warm wooden furniture. Soaps, body lotions and shampoos were lined up on a small shelf, all of them in white bottles like what would be found in a hotel room. Yuuri imagined Victor spending hours pouring his newly bought products into one of these bottles, and he smirked. Paying attention to the rest of the place, he stared at the multijet shower equipped with LED and a waterfall system like Yuuri had only ever seen on TV. He couldn’t wait to test it. 

The air smelled like passion fruit. 

The living room opened to another corridor, slightly wider than the first one.

“That’s Victor’s room,” Yurio pointed at the door at the back, “that’s the one I sleep in when I come over - don’t put your nose in my stuff!” he added when they walked by another door. “And that’s yours, he thought you might want your own place when you visit too.”

His room. His own room. He couldn’t wait to sleep here. He must have been grinning too much because the teenager rolled his eyes.

“Thank you so much,” the Japanese murmured.

“You sure about this? Really, really sure?” 

He bit his lower lip. Victor was the one who acted on impulses, not Yuuri… but this time, he did, and the implications of his decision were starting to dawn on him. He was here. In Victor’s hometown, in Victor’s apartment… and Victor had no idea. He thought they’d meet in Sochi and take a vacation together before being separated again. He didn’t know that Yuuri’s passport was stamped with a Russian work permit. He didn’t know that the love of his life was, in this exact moment, moving in. Everything had been kept secret.

“Do you think he’ll be mad at me?”

“If you’re worried about that you should have used your brain earlier!”

The Russian Fairy kept on grumbling about fools in love and moving too fast, but he wasn’t actually angry - no, he was delighted, and Yuuri was well aware of it. Moving to Russia meant Victor could stay and keep his promise. Yurio had been the first to know of his plans, then he had told Minami since it would impact him. Yakov, whom Yurio confided in to make sure Victor wouldn’t be in St.Petersburg on the D-Day, helped him get things in motion with his visa application and work sponsorship. Yuuri would be working at a rink close to the one Yurio trained at. 

“That’s for you,” Yurio sighed, giving him a brown paper bag. “There’s still some food in the pantry and the fridge. Don’t eat my cereals. We’ll pick you up the day after tomorrow to go to the airport. Don’t set fire to the house or Victor will kill me. Your key and the code for the door is on the kitchen table. The neighbours are weird but the old lady downstairs brings cake sometimes. Bye.”

Yuuri heard the door slam. He smiled, discovering that the brown bag was full of pirozhki.

 

 

*

 

 

Yuuri woke up in a daze, momentarily forgetting what he had done. The king-size bed felt too big, and the eerie silence around him reminded him how far away from home he was. The sheets smelled like Victor. He breathed in, hugging the pillow. He hadn’t intended on falling asleep in his lover’s room but his body had decided to shut down as soon as he had crawled on the mattress (he just wanted to see how comfortable it was). He had eaten one pirozhki, placed the others in the fridge, taken a shower, and before visiting his own room, he had already crashed on Victor’s bed.

He stirred, then looked outside. It was snowing. The heater was on, making it easier to get out of bed. He moved carefully, still groggy, wearing the blue pyjama he had put on after his shower, and found his suitcase where he had left it, open and spilling its content near the entrance. He grabbed a fluffy pair of socks and his toothbrush, wondering how Victor would react to his presence here and tempted to call him and spill everything.

He resisted the urge, and after breakfast (he tried Yurio’s cereals but would take it to the grave), decided to get used to his surroundings. He brought his luggage in his room, which was much smaller than Victor’s, and beamed when he noticed it had been prepared for him.

The bed filled the entire space of the cubic tower, it was obviously custom-made. There were so many pillows and decorative cushions, it looked like the comfiest nest Yuuri had ever seen. The wooden floor was mostly covered with a soft, fluffy brown carpet and the walls were decorated with a few framed pictures of Hasetsu. Between the wardrobe and the wall stood a small desk, and Yuuri felt tears in his eyes when he noticed a collection of printed selfies they had taken together. The picture that took the world by storm had also been printed, and a note was written on the back:

 

_ “Dear Yuuri, _

 

_ I’m writing this before going to Sochi with Mila - I don’t know why Yakov is sending us ahead of time, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll meet you there anyway, and then I’ll bring you back here for your vacation so I don’t even know why I’m writing, I could just tell you. I’m so happy! I hope you’ll like the flat. I know you won’t stay for long, but each time you come here, I want you to have your own space if you ever need it, and I want you to feel at home. If you don’t like this photo, if it reminds you of bad times, feel free to throw it away. I think it’s a gorgeous picture and I don’t really care how it was used, so I printed it for you, but don’t keep it just because I like it. _

_ I have a few more pictures of us laying around, I want to frame them in the living room and in my room. I didn’t have the time because I spent hours decorating your room so, we can do that together after the GPF! _

 

_ I love you so much, I can’t wait to see you again, Солнышко. _

 

_ Your Vitenka” _

  
He sighed happily. Of course he would keep it. Yes, this photo had brought them discomfort and worries, but Yuuri was so glad they had gotten through it that he could only stare at it lovingly. After a few minutes, he unpacked his suitcase, and put his clothes in the wardrobe. He plugged in his computer, charged his phone, and little by little, arranged his room to his taste. When he closed the now empty suitcase and backpack, his chocolate eyes were shining. He sent a text to Yurio and asked him if it was possible to go shopping when he was done with training since he wanted to buy a few plants. He wanted to start decorating. He was used to clutter, and Victor deserved to live in a livelier atmosphere. Somehow, he doubted the Russian would mind, and if he did, Yuuri would just return everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want Yuuri's bed.


	22. Chapter 22

He was right there, black gloves and light brown designer coat over an elegant suit. A finger on his lips showed he was paying close attention to whatever the cute red-haired girl in front of him said. Yuuri heard nothing but the beats of his own heart, so loud and so fast he briefly wondered if he drank too much coffee this morning.

He felt someone tug at his sleeve and blinked at Minami, who grinned and giggled, wearing a black and blue JSF jacket over his costume. He didn’t seem nervous at all, but Yuuri still felt guilty about being distracted. Victor was so beautiful.

“I still have ten minutes before the warm up,” Minami claimed with a wink.

“I’m the worst coach,” Yuuri replied, shaking his head, before his student pushed him forward.

“I’ll survive. Just come back before I get on the ice.”

He barely listened to the end of his sentence, already walking towards his lover, his hands shaking. His lips stretched in a bright smile. The passion fruit scent reached him and he stopped.

“Vitenka…” he breathed, and Victor turned around, covering his mouth with his hand, eyes shining.

There was nothing around them anymore. Yuuri didn’t know who took the first step forward, who embraced the other first, all he could think of now was the whirlwind of emotions inside him and Victor’s warmth against his body. He gripped the fabric of his coat and let out a sob. He had acted more detached, more patient than the Russian during these long months apart, but it just meant he could hide his feelings better. Victor held him so tightly he could barely breathe and he didn’t care. He pressed his face in the crook of his neck, letting his tears flow.

He was here, he was embracing him, Yuuri could touch him and feel him, he could hear his voice in his ear and feel his hot lips peppering his hair with kisses and his hands on his hips and his eyes on him and everything was so incredibly _right_ and perfect.

Yuuri hands moved from Victor’s back to his hair, tracing small circles on his scalp - they pleased the Russian, and they calmed Yuuri down. He stopped crying. If he kept smiling so much, his face would hurt for hours, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Yuuri.”

His name being whispered in his ear made him shiver. He relaxed and moved back slightly, before Victor bumped their forehead together and gazed at him with the softest glint in his eyes and a wonderful smile brightening his features. His cheeks and nose were pink.

“Victor. Katsudon.”

They parted as soon as Yurio joined them, frowning. Mila, who had been giggling until now, started to look worried.

“Stop that,” the blond teenager hissed. “You’re hidden behind the wall right now but we’re in Russia. Don’t fuck up.”

Mila nodded approvingly and Yuuri apologized - he didn’t think straight, and looking at Victor, who now had his hand on his shoulder, it was obvious that he was way too happy to realize they might have been caught red-handed. As much as he wanted to say it didn’t matter, he knew better. They still exchanged scarves though, because Victor kept pulling on the fabric and whispering that he wanted _his Yuuri_ around his neck.

The announcement for the warm-up echoed in the rink. Yuuri found a spot near the rink and noticed Minami waving at him. The kid glided on the white surface with a big smile on his face, completely relaxed, while his competitors looked either terrified, smug or like they just swallowed a brick that was slowly and painfully making its way down their oesophagus. No matter what happened, Minami was such an optimistic skater that Yuuri knew he would keep believing in himself.

“Does he cry sometimes?” Victor asked gently, about a meter away from him.

“He’s the happiest kid I’ve ever seen,” the Japanese said, before looking at Yurio. “I thought you didn’t want to watch the Juniors.”

“I enjoy their mediocrity.”

Mila hugged him without warning and Victor laughed at his futile attempts to untangle himself from her arms.

“Alright, I’d love to stay, but we need to meet up with Yakov.”

Yuuri wished he could kiss him goodbye, but showed enough restraint to make Yurio sigh in relief (once Mila let him go). The Russian team left when the warm up ended, and the Japanese coach could only grin, inhaling Victor’s scent on the elegant scarf now wrapped around his neck.

 

 

*

 

 

Minami’s combined score gave him enough points for the podium. He chatted excitedly with his mother in the hotel lobby, proud of his bronze medal. Yuuri stood next to him, holding a giant lobster plushie that had been thrown on the ice at the end of the Free Skate - Minami’s arms were full of numerous smaller gifts. After a few minutes, the teenager smirked and told Yuuri he could go. They’d see each other the next day, since they both wanted to watch the Senior Short Program.

“Before I go, are you sure you’re okay with everything?” Yuuri murmured, giving the lobster to Minami’s mother.

His student nodded and giggled, his toothy grin cute as always. This was it. If they ever wanted to work together again, it would be in Russia unless Victor and Yurio both moved to Japan, and the decision hadn’t been taken lightly. Yuuri didn’t want him to feel abandoned by his coach and had struggled for a long time before he was sure that his smiles and positive demeanor weren’t a facade. They truly weren’t. Minami was genuinely happy. His current plan was to continue training at the rink in Fukuoka - Yuuri had recommended him to a coach who already brought Senior skaters to the Grand Prix and who said she’d take him on if he won a medal. The woman would train him for his Junior years. If Minami did well, at eighteen, he would study in St. Petersburg, and work with Yuuri for his Senior competitions. It was his initial plan, supported by his family, and he was already learning Russian with a private teacher - the same teacher who taught Yuuri. They started attending lessons together. Even if he never came to Russia, it would be an asset for his future. Yuuri didn’t want to know how much money his parents had, to be able to afford so much for their son.

The young man took the elevator, leaving the boy behind. When the doors opened on the fifth floor, he could feel his legs trembling. When he knocked on the door of room 532, his throat was dry, and when he heard something fall and Victor swearing in Russian, his heart nearly leapt out of his chest.

"Cолнышко!”

He didn’t remember entering the room, or even closing the door - if he closed it. Maybe Victor did. He focused on Victor’s breathless kisses, on the pressure of his body against his.

“Vitenka… Vitya,” he moaned, throwing his head back when the Russian scraped at his neck with his teeth. His legs hit the bed and he fell on the mattress, whining at the loss of warmth before dragging Victor down by his tie. They kissed again. He locked his legs around his lover’s waist, lost his fingers in his silky hair, caressing it gently at first, then pulling on it just like Victor loved. The Russian groaned, and they finally parted. Yuuri smiled, drowning in his lover’s gorgeous eyes. He couldn’t believe they were here together after so long, and couldn’t understand how he went through each day without him... how he even lived before knowing him. But he remembered. The time between the accident and their first meeting was a blur of insecurities, anxiety, nervous breakdowns and pretend happiness. His life was fragmented. He didn’t miss the Before Victor, and more importantly, he didn’t miss what he forgot, the Before _Before_ Victor. Most of the pieces of memory he retrieved day after day were a welcome addition to his life, but not all of them pleased him, and with Victor in his arms, none of them mattered. He was aware of the important details: how he discovered the champion on TV one day, how he skated his routines, and he finally remembered the love he had for his family. He had more feelings than images in his mind.

The After Victor was a whirlwind of love, desire and bliss. He chuckled, and the Russian pressed his lips on the tip of his nose.

“I’ll go bald if you pull my hair so much,” he teased, and Yuuri relaxed his grip.

“You love it.”

“I do.”

Another kiss, and they rolled on the bed. Yuuri straddled him and was immediately pulled in a tight embrace.

“I missed you,” Victor breathed in his ear. “I missed you, I missed you, I missed you…”

Yuuri’s palms, flat against his chest, could feel the heat radiating from his skin through the expensive fabric of his shirt. He was probably just as warm, and he nuzzled at his neck.

“I hope you’ll like my apartment,” Victor whispered, playing with Yuuri’s hair. “I prepared a room just for you but please don’t use it, we only have a week together. I really wish you could stay longer, Yuuri. My Yuuri.”

The young man grinned, glad that his boyfriend couldn’t see his expression. Oh, it was so tempting to tell him everything now.

“I wish I could too,” he replied softly.

They spent the next few minutes in comfortable silence, and when Yuuri shifted, he became painfully aware of the strain in his pants. He sucked on Victor’s earlobe.

“Can I make love to you, Vitenka?”

A devilish smirk appeared on the Russian’s face and Yuuri sat up, only to be pushed down the mattress again.

“I think I want to ride you,” came the reply, and the atmosphere changed instantly. Yuuri swore, his hips meeting Victor’s. He briefly remembered that Yurio stayed next door. If he heard them, he would probably hate him even more than if he discovered he had eaten his cereals.

Not that it mattered. It could be fun to hear him scream in horror. Yuuri had no intention to keep his voice down, and if he trusted Victor’s attitude, the silver-haired man would be vocal as well. He decided to test this by opening his trousers and touching him, and when he was rewarded by a low and delicious “ah, _fuck_ ”, he beamed.

_Sorry, Yurio._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost there! :D I decided to publish this chapter today instead of waiting for Monday. I might have the last one ready sooner too, but no promises! Unless something changes at the last minute, the next chapter is the last :)


	23. Chapter 23

Yuuri only had a small bag with him, which seemed completely alien to Victor who was used to travel with his entire closet. He was convinced the airline lost his luggage and the Japanese had to insist several times before he understood that he simply had nothing with him. Bare necessities, he had said. It seemed strange that he would forget his skates, but maybe he didn’t want to go to the rink, or he decided to rent a pair. The thought made him shudder. Rental skates. Why... And no spare clothes? Did he plan on spending the whole week naked? Or do laundry every day? Not that Victor minded either, but still. He was confused.

Right now, Yuuri was looking at the snowy streets of St. Petersburg from the taxi, his fingers brushing against Victor’s, his eyes shining behind his sexy new glasses, and a small, adorable smile tucking the corners of his lips. Keeping the affection displays to a minimum was difficult. They had been followed everywhere in the airport by reporters eager to interview them - only one dared to ask about their relationship and was given a cheerful “no comment” in response. Finding a taxi had been annoying because a fan wouldn’t leave them alone, and after the long flight and all the fake smiles and handshakes, Victor was exhausted. They had parted with Yurio who glared at them like they stole his cat but who somehow accepted a quick hug from Yuuri, much to Victor’s astonishment - since when did they know each other so well?

Victor planned on showing Yuuri around the apartment and letting him rest while he went grocery shopping. He would pick up his dog on the way back; the cute poodle often stayed with the same pet-sitter when his owner was away. The taxi pulled in the driveway as soon as the Russian opened the gate, and Yuuri’s smile widened. His eyes full of joy made Victor’s pulse quicken. He loved him so much. His leg was jittery with impatience as he couldn’t wait to kiss him in his own home.

He paid the driver. Yuuri helped him get his bag out of the trunk, snickering and commenting on its weight. Once in the apartment, he showed his lover around, telling funny stories about Makkachin when they first moved in and feeling warm and delighted when the Japanese laughed. In the lounge, before he could go any further, Yuuri locked his arms around his waist and kissed him. His lips were soft and so, so hot… Victor melted.

“Ah, why do I have to get out again,” he whined, and Yuuri snorted and poked his shoulder. 

“You said we have nothing to eat and I’m hungry!”

“We can order.”

“But then we have nothing for tomorrow. Makkachin will pee on the bed if you leave him one more night alone.”

He ruffled the younger man’s thick hair and closed his eyes, just inhaling his scent, lips pressed against his forehead. Yuuri had the distinct smell of winter, the one you always carry inside after being out in cold and snowy weather. There was an underlying perfume of passion fruit from the shower they had taken together in the morning, and it masked a faint trace of sweat and airplane smell. There was something else too, something soothing that was purely Yuuri and made him want to cuddle forever.

“Alright… what do you want, anything in particular? I can cook a stew, I think you’d like it.”

Victor didn’t use his pots and pans often, and he couldn’t bake to save his life, but he had practiced a few of his childhood’s favourite dishes enough to perfect them. He rarely had the time to cook any of them when he was still competing, and knowing he could now cook for Yuuri made him nervous and ecstatic at the same time.

“Mh. Food for cold weather. Please. I’m freezing,” Yuuri murmured and his body shivered on cue.

He let go of him and grabbed a pen and a post-it from the nearest bookshelf to write a list (the apartment might look lifeless but not when it was observed closely: he had a lot of small things scattered everywhere). He noticed a cactus he didn’t remember having but figured Yurio might have brought it as a reminder of his spiky personality, probably hoping it would fall and Victor would step on it one day. 

He knew Yuuri loved raspberry jam so he put it down, and the Japanese started his own list of groceries with him, intending to cook katsudon the next day. After a quick kiss and a sigh, Victor grabbed his car keys and headed back outside. He didn’t drive often; the rink was close-by and he liked to jog there. He also usually got his groceries delivered.

His first stop was the gas station, where he filled his car tank. He realized he should probably stop smiling but knowing Yuuri was currently in his apartment was almost too much to bear. Once at the supermarket, he chose the best cut of beef and pork, took his time to compare brands and even bought candy for Yurio. He was stopped twice for autographs and heard people whisper as he carried toilet paper - did these individuals think he was some sort of godly being who wasn’t bothered by natural urges? He grabbed condoms and a bottle of lube as well, knowing full well he still had more than enough at home but feeling quite satisfied at the shocked expressions all around him. 

After finding a dessert he thought Yuuri would like, he paid and drove to the pet-sitter. Makkachin tackled him as soon as he saw him, and Victor laughed, hugging his precious dog and rubbing his fur. He really missed his pet during competitions. To make up for all this time apart, he took him on a walk and played with him until the sun set. The poodle fell asleep at the back of the car.

“Yuuri, I’m home!”

He cooed when his lover tiptoed in the corridor, hair still wet from a bath, wearing... was that Victor’s knitted sweater? It was much too large for the Japanese, the neckline hung low on his chest and the sleeves hid his hands. He also wore the pair of pants Yurio had always wanted to burn, fleece pants the Russian champion liked to wear on his days off. How could the sight of his boyfriend wearing his clothes make him blush so much? Makkachin seemed to like it too: he bounced forward, almost tripping Victor, and greeted Yuuri enthusiastically. If he hadn’t been so tired from the walk, he would have probably tackled him to the floor and licked his face relentlessly. Yuuri’s eyes shone in delight. He kneeled down and burrowed his fingers in the soft fur, laughing.

Victor closed the door and watched them fondly. After a while, he remembered he should probably start cooking. His lover’s laughter echoed in the apartment.

Once the ingredients were slowly cooking, he boiled water for tea and opened a cupboard to grab mugs… before frowning, stopping in his tracks. Since when did he own a pair of blue mugs adorned with skates? They looked brand new, placed next to the one Yurio gave him for his birthday two years ago (“85 years old! Congrats!” was written on it. It was coloured in the ugliest shade of yellow and wore a green dotted ceramic bowtie). Perhaps Victor forgot he bought them. He shrugged and decided to use them.

Another cupboard revealed a set of tableware he didn’t remember about. Curious and confused, but also slightly excited, he started to look everywhere. He found bento boxes under the sink next to a bag of disposable chopsticks he certainly never had before. His eyes then noticed a collection of cactus on the windowsill, each of them in a blue pot. A cookbook in Japanese sat next to Victor’s recipes notebook. A rice cooker stood next to the microwave. He tried to understand why Yuuri would do that - because it couldn’t be Yurio at this point - and no matter how he looked at it, he loved it. The love of his life seemed to be nesting, so he could call this place home each time he visited, and it warmed his heart.

“Victor? What happened?”

He turned around and hugged Yuuri.

“I like what you’ve done with the place.”

“Oh… good! Do you like the mugs? They’re cute, right?”

“They-” his eyes widened as realization struck. “Yuuri! Did you give Yurio instructions or something? Or did you manage to go buy all of this while I was out?”

“Mmh I might have done something. How long until food is ready?”

“About two hours.”

“Show me your room then. I’ll tell you afterwards.”

Victor felt like he purposefully avoided an important conversation but his thoughts muddled too quickly to remember what it was about when Yuuri kissed him.

 

 

*

 

 

Victor had a plan. He was going to propose to Yuuri while they skated together, just like they did in Tokyo, before the picture of them made headlines. It would mostly be symbolic since gay marriage wasn’t legal in Russia or Japan, but he still wanted to travel to another country and exchange vows. It wouldn’t be recognized, but he would be satisfied with the knowledge that they belonged to each other. The meaning would be enough and would make the distance between them more bearable. If it wasn’t enough for Yuuri, they would move to the country they got married in. But he was getting ahead of himself.

 

**To: The Anger-Fueled Fluffball**

Hey, can you ask Yakov if I can have the rink for an hour at some point this week?

 

**From: The Anger-Fueled Fluffball**

Ask him yourself

 

**To: The Anger-Fueled Fluffball**

I tried, he’s not answering

 

**From: The Anger-Fueled Fluffball**

What’s the hurry? You’re annoying

 

**To: The Anger-Fueled Fluffball**

I want to surprise Yuuri before he goes back to Japan

 

**From: The Anger-Fueled Fluffball**

...

 

**From: The Anger-Fueled Fluffball**

Seriously

 

**To: The Anger-Fueled Fluffball**

What?

 

**From: The Anger-Fueled Fluffball**

You can’t be so blind right? You’re joking?

 

**To: The Anger-Fueled Fluffball**

??

 

**From: The Anger-Fueled Fluffball**

Where is he now?

 

**To: The Anger-Fueled Fluffball**

Sleeping

 

**From: The Anger-Fueled Fluffball**

Don’t do anything. I’m coming over. This is too funny.

 

**To: The Anger-Fueled Fluffball**

It’s not even sunrise yet!

 

**From: The Anger-Fueled Fluffball**

So? You’re up. Probably even went for a jog already. And Katsudon’s sleeping so you’re not being gross. You didn’t do stuff in my room right?

 

**To: The Anger-Fueled Fluffball**

Now you’re the gross one, why would we have sex in our son’s crib?

 

**From: The Anger-Fueled Fluffball**

Go to hell.

 

**From: The Anger-Fueled Fluffball**

I want hot chocolate when I get there. The one with cinnamon. 

 

**From: The Anger-Fueled Fluffball**

Be there in 20 min.

 

Before 7AM, Victor found himself drinking hot chocolate with a teenager who was in a surprisingly good mood for being up so early (he was used to it but Victor remembered that himself was far from chatty when Yakov scheduled his training at the crack of dawn). He had never seen him grin so much. There was a strange, almost diabolical glint in his green eyes and he was humming the melody of his Free Skate, refusing to spill anything about what was so funny to him.

“How do you know Yuuri so well? You seem pretty close,” the older man asked quietly, unwilling to wake his lover.

“We text a lot.”

“So, did he ask you to buy stuff and bring it here?”

The evil glint grew.

“You think I’d obey him?”

Victor became all too aware of the hardness of his seat when he crossed his legs. Despite being a morning person  now that he was older, he felt like going back to bed, but not before Yurio spat the truth.

“Alright, enough games,” he sighed before poking the teenager’s arm. “What’s happening?”

Yurio shrugged and sipped his drink, darkening his lips with chocolate. He then put the mug down on the wooden table and muttered a “be right back” before disappearing in the hallway. Victor heard hushed voices and cringed; poor Yuuri, being woken up so suddenly. Both Yuris walked into the kitchen, the Japanese led by the Russian. He was so cute, with his bed hair and half-lidded eyes that lit up when he saw Victor. The older man stood up and embraced him, giving him the softest kiss. Yuuri’s skin was hot like it could only be after sleeping under a thick and heavy blanket. Letting him go after hearing Yurio’s disgusted groan, he prepared another mug of hot chocolate, and instead of sitting down again, he stayed behind the young man and rested his chin on his head while he drank and tried to wake up, half-crouched on his chair.

“Why am I awake?” Yuuri croaked, dazed and sleepy.

“Don’t worry, we’re going back to bed in a bit. Yurio knows something and apparently he wants you to be there when he talks so…”

With a chuckle, the Japanese reached behind him to ruffle Victor’s hair.

“I see. Can you do me a favor and bring me the post-it in my passport? It’s in my room, on the desk. The paper is on page 11.”

Nodding but still confused, Victor left, not without seeing Yurio’s excitement. What kind of joke were they both playing on him? He didn’t mind though. He opened the door to Yuuri’s room and smiled: his beloved had been busy while he was out shopping apparently. The pictures he had printed just for him were neatly arranged on the walls of the alcove around the bed. He spotted the Japanese passport and opened it, looking for page 11.

The world stood still. His throat felt dry and his neck tingled while he tried to understand what he was seeing. There was no post-it. Page 11 was stamped with a Russian work visa. 

He realized he was crying. He couldn’t believe it. Another glance at the desk showed him a copy of a letter of invitation issued by a nearby ice rink, with Yakov's recommendations. Yuuri deliberately placed it there for him to find, he understood.

His hands were shaking. He composed himself, wiping his tears on his sleeve, and walked back to the kitchen, finding his lover smiling at him with a tenderness he had rarely seen before. Yurio’s eyes were now shining, their evil glint gone. 

“Yuuri?” Victor murmured, finding it hard to talk.

“Mmh?”

“Is… is that real?” he pointed at the page he had kept open.

The Japanese pressed himself against him, his hands traveling up and down his spine. 

“How can I make new memories without you? I’m staying, Vitenka.”

His words were trapped. He fought against the new tears threatening to escape, finding it hard to breathe. While Yuuri wasn’t looking, his face hidden in Victor’s shirt, Yurio briefly showed a velvety box to the silver-haired man.

Victor bit his lower lip. His romantic idea to propose on the ice flew out the window, because there was no better time than now. Slowly, he nodded, and for the first time, he saw the angry Russian Fairy grin without frowning or showing off. Yurio slipped the box in his open palm, and quietly left the room.

Victor took a step back and admired the beauty of his lover’s features. He kissed the knuckles of his left hand, and got down on one knee.

 

Yurio stayed in the apartment just long enough to hear Yuuri’s answer.

“You guys are disgusting!” he yelled, still smiling, before slamming the door behind him.

He would be late for practice but it didn’t matter. He remembered that Yuuri and Victor would never have met if it wasn’t for him, and he thought the sun shone just a little bit brighter when he walked on the freshly fallen snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is now 24 chapters long, I had to add one :P A small epilogue, coming in a few hours!


	24. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very short epilogue to wrap everything properly and add a dose of fluff to the whole thing :)

**To: Minami**

Do you know where Victor is?

 

**From: Minami**

He was with Yuri earlier, why? 

 

**To: Minami**

Nothing, he’s not answering his phone, that’s all. Good luck for today! Sorry I couldn’t be there.

 

**From: Minami**

It’s okay, I’ll get gold anyway.

 

**From: Minami**

Err don’t tell Yuri I said that

 

**To: The Older Not So Angry Fluffball**

Can you ask Victor to read his messages?

 

**From: The Older Not So Angry Fluffball**

He forgot his phone at the hotel, why?

 

**From: The Older Not So Angry Fluffball**

I don’t know how you can stand him by the way, he’s been moping all morning because he can’t text you

 

**To: The Older Not So Angry Fluffball**

Can I call you and talk to him?

 

**From: The Older Not So Angry Fluffball**

I don’t know where he is. I need to warm up. Don’t forget to watch me on TV, I’ll break my own world record today.

 

**To: The Older Not So Angry Fluffball**

I will

 

**From: The Fluffball Tamer**

Yura said you might need to talk to someone if Victor doesn’t show up. Text me if you need something. Call if it’s urgent.

 

**From: Pizza the Unjudging (Hiro)**

Hey Yuuri, Eiko says you shouldn’t worry. Sorry I couldn’t reply earlier. Come over next time you’re in Japan.

 

**From: Mila**

You got the entire Russian team looking for Victor now, it shouldn’t take long. Did I tell you that Yura’s hair got stuck in his jacket zipper today? He screamed so much he was asked to leave by security! Otabek had to tell them he was a skater so they wouldn’t throw him out! Yura said he’d cut it but he’s scared he’s going to look stupid. 

 

**From: Mari**

Yuuri what’s wrong? 

 

**To: Mari**

Nobody can tell me where Victor is! Vitaly ate a rock at the park today, I don’t know what to do!

 

**From: Mari**

Is he breathing?

 

**To: Mari**

Yes

 

**From: Mari**

Showing any sign of discomfort?

 

**To: Mari**

No but it’s bad right?

 

**From: Mari**

Yuuri you ate parts of a tatami mat and swallowed a snail when you were a baby

 

**To: Mari**

But not a rock!

 

**From: Mari**

Did you see a doctor if you’re so worried?

 

**To: Mari**

Yes. He laughed. Said the rock was so small I panicked for nothing.

 

**From: Mari**

I’m sorry, he shouldn’t have. It’s okay, it’ll go away. I don’t think you should tell Victor though

 

**To: Mari**

?

 

**From: Mari**

He’ll take the first flight back to Finland if you tell him his baby ate something that wasn’t food. He’ll miss Yura and Mila’s competition, cry for the whole flight, lose all his hair, and bring Vitaly to every clinic in the country until he finds someone who’ll take him seriously. Your husband is crazy. 

 

**To: Mari**

Okay :( 

 

**From: Mari**

I know it’s new but it’ll get better so don’t panic, okay? And tell Victor to change my name in his phone if he still calls me Godly Being.

 

**To: Mari**

Vitaly wouldn’t be born without you. You’ll always be a goddess to us. At least it’s better than “Glorious Egg Donor” :D

 

**From: Mari**

HAHA That one was fine, I called him something much worse at the time. Need to go, lots of customers today.

 

**To: Mari**

Thank you, I feel a lot better

 

**From: Vitenka**

Baby what’s wrong? 14 missed calls?? I went back to the hotel, I forgot my phone there. Why aren’t you picking up now? Is it Vitya? Call me now or I’m booking a flight!

 

**To: Vitenka**

Can’t call now, I’m trying to get him to sleep. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have worried you, everything is fine. I’ll call as soon as he’s asleep, alright? I love you <3

 

**From: Vitenka**

If I was skating I would flub all my jumps. Can I have a picture?

 

**To: Vitenka**

Here you go!

 

**From: Vitenka**

Ooooooh look at him he looks so much like me today! 

 

**To: Vitenka**

He’s gorgeous <3 when are you landing? I’ll pick you up.

 

**From: Vitenka**

I’ll land in Helsinki at 5.30PM on Friday. Yurio was asking if he can visit, he wants to see the baby. 

 

**To: Vitenka**

Sure. I’ll prepare his room. Is he going back to Russia afterwards?

 

**From: Vitenka**

Yes, he wants to see his grandpa. He’ll train with Yakov while he’s there even if he says Minami annoys him, and after the holidays he’ll come back to Finland.  

 

**To: Vitenka**

Good, I haven’t seen him since we got Vitaly. I should let you go now, it’s bad if the world’s best skater doesn’t have a coach for the GPF!

 

**From: Vitenka**

Love you! Kiss Vitya for me!

 

**To: Vitenka**

<3<3<3<3

 

**To: The Older Not So Angry Fluffball; The Fluffball Tamer; Minami; Mila; Mari; Pizza the Unjudging (Hiro)**

Thanks everyone, I talked to Victor. I love you all! 

 

Yuuri turned his screen off and caressed his baby’s soft, pink cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered, before singing his favourite lullaby. 

Vitaly stared at him and finally, his eyelids fluttered shut, hiding the frozen water of his eyes.

 

 

 

  
**_END_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo… I was not going to write an epilogue, but you guys loved the nicknames I had for everyone in this story, and I figured this format wasn’t bad to wrap things up. This would be set about 5-10 years in the future, our loving couple moved to another country and Mari donated her eggs so Vitaly is Mari and Victor’s biological son.  
> The Fluffball Tamer is Otabek.  
> Vitya is a nickname used for both Victor and Vitaly.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading this! I hope the fluff saved your brave little hearts from the bitterness of the first few chapters.

**Author's Note:**

> There we go, I really enjoyed writing this! I'll be writing more stories, it's so easy to stay motivated with all the kudos and comments from you guys, you're the best!  
> \----  
>  ** _Find me here:_**  
>  Twitter: [@FuzzyJawa](https://twitter.com/FuzzyJawa)  
> Tumblr: [vivi1138](http://vivi1138.tumblr.com/) (main)/ [FluffySnowyEgret](http://fluffysnowyegret.tumblr.com/) (Yuri on Ice-centric)  
> (I reblog stuff, I don't really post, Twitter is more active)  
> Official website (French): [Abîme des Harpies](https://abimedesharpies.com/)
> 
> My ongoing multi chapters fics:  
> [Wishes and Thorns](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9136819/chapters/20761603)  
> [Fireworks above the Lake](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11027064/chapters/24575970)  
> [Pink Skate Guards and Bunk Beds](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9982199/chapters/22296806)
> 
> My completed multi chapters fic:  
> [Tiger Stripes and Smartphones](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9452684/chapters/21385880)


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